


The Tawse That Refreshes

by Sushi4Brains



Series: A Chat With Iruka [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Anal Sex, Discipline, M/M, Oral Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sushi4Brains/pseuds/Sushi4Brains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to "A Chat With Iruka."     A chance encounter with a no-nonsense chunnin and the business end of a hairbrush, leads Kakashi down a path of life previously unknown.    A different perspective on Kakashi's inherent need to follow the rules.       IruKaka.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misconception

 

Much gratitude to my awesome beta, WeepingCadaver; she really cracks the whip and heaven help me, I’m starting to like it. Any leftover dangling participles or comma splices are my own darn fault.

Bear with me gentle reader, for this story presents Kakashi without Team Seven, and his only knowledge of Iruka comes from comments he’d heard from fellow jounin.

* * *

 

These past five months he’d lived and walked among them as a comrade, a man of middling intelligence who was quick to hear and slow to speak. Many saw him as a shinobi of adequate skill but one who would never rise above his current rank; outspoken at times, he was viewed by some as a rabble-rouser, whose vehement, yet stumbling rhetoric tapped into the deep-seated hatred his fellow shinobi held toward the Land of Fire.

His grasp of their language . . .  adequate, his mimicry of their customs and mannerisms was good enough to brand him as one born and bred in the land, someone they could trust. His charisma opened doors and loosened tight lips, giving him access to people and places summarily denied to others.

His silvery hair, much longer now, lay plastered to his scalp under the standard tan head wrap of a mid-level Suna ninja; his face, one of Konohagakure’s greatest mysteries, a tad wind burnt and slightly bronzed, was laid bare for the denizens of the Hidden Sand Village to behold.

These past five months, he’d lived and walked among them, unfettered he went through them as a scurrilous infiltrator, a murderous wraith.

In the searing heat of day or in twilight’s cool breezes, he siphoned off intelligence from unguarded conversations or the drunken ramblings of pretentious bureaucrats around him. He knew the most bombastic individuals possessed the least amount of factual information and thus he targeted those who labored in administrative capacities; those the fighting forces looked down on such as mission room workers and archive assistants. These were the ones whose disappearances were less likely to draw attention.

One by one, his unwitting informants would fall prey to his charm or in those rare cases, they would fall under the sway of the Sharingan’s hypnotic influence. After they'd outlived their usefulness, he took pleasure in hearing the snap of their necks right before they crumpled at his feet. Others proved themselves deep wells of information from which he could continuously draw in exchange for sexual favors. Bathed in moonlight, entangled in spun linen sheets, his throw away lovers would divulge pieces of critical information as he ravished their bodies; from them he stitched together data concerning troop strength, armaments and clandestine maneuvers in and around the borders of the Land of Fire. As with the others, once their fount of intelligence dried up, he'd terminate them, callously stifling their keening moans of orgasm by slitting their throats and riding out his own climax as their blood splattered against him and soaked into the bedding.

Every assassination brought him closer to the prize his village sought. Every cold-blooded murder led the Sand ninja further from the true identity of the killer among them.

Fortune smiled on him once more, granting an opportunity unexpected; from the cyanotic lips of his final lover had tumbled the precise location of detailed plans for a coordinated invasion of Konoha.

The last words of a dying man could reveal indisputable truths or they could be a final attempt to cover up a deadly trap.

All the intelligence he’d collected to this point was nothing more than hearsay and if there were a way to get concrete evidence of a conspiracy, he’d be a fool not to investigate further.

For the next month Kakashi monitored the location where these scrolls were allegedly kept, memorizing details of the building’s interior layout and becoming familiar with the unchanging faces, the ebb and flow of the security forces stationed there. Night after night was spent outlining contingency strategies should his overall plans encounter a stumbling block; failure was not an option.

In the event of his capture, he knew that the Hidden Leaf Village would staunchly disavow involvement – that was the plan he agreed to.  The Hokage would openly declare that Sharingan no Kakashi, the man of a thousand jutsu, had defected from his village and should be held singularly responsible for his unsanctioned actions.   

But a ninja of his status was valuable, dead or alive – both he and the Hokage knew that as well.  Hoping for the best, they'd prepared for the worst. Before his departure from the Leaf Village, the Hokage placed a seal on the Sharingan, one that would nullify its power and vaporize his body if removed while Kakashi was still alive.  Should the Sharingan be tampered with after his demise, the seal would activate and essentially turn his body into a time bomb. 

 _If ever there was an incentive to return home in one piece . . ._ he wryly thought. 

He'd calculated every detail of his escape down to the second; he knew the exact time when shifts changed at the village's main entryway and when the marketplace just inside the main gates would be at its busiest. And when the time was right, after five long months, Hatake Kakashi strolled through the bustling town square, his rucksack filled to overflowing with their secrets, a trail of unsolved murders in his wake. 

Half of the twenty chunnin set to relive the outgoing lookouts at the village’s stone bulwarks were his shadow clones – he’d planned that beforehand.  Equipped with taupe colored smoke bombs, they would divert attention from him as he walked out into the arid wasteland.  Armed with poison tipped kunai, they would thwart retaliatory attacks aimed his way.  

This was a suicide mission -- he knew that from the start. 

Sand shinobi were known far and wide for their ferocity in battle and their depraved cruelty toward prisoners, especially those prominently featured in their bingo books like he was. 

Fifty paces from the cleft in the rock at the village’s egress point, the odor of rotten eggs caught his attention.  That meant the alarm was raised sooner than he’d expected; the detonating smoke bombs also meant there was less time to flee than he’d planned.  But he’d come too far, risked too much already to give up without resistance. 

He took off running at top speed; twenty meters outside the village proper, the sounds of a raging skirmish still ringing in his ears, he felt the presence of four, jounin level ninja hot on his heels.   With unfamiliar, ever shifting terrain stretching out before him in every direction and certain death a hairsbreadth behind him, Kakashi whirled about and sprinted toward his pursuers.   

He’d diminished a goodly portion of his chakra to create the shadow clones, so a protracted battle was out of the question; he needed to conserve his strength for the journey ahead.  He settled instead for a jutsu that would whip up an intensely concentrated sandstorm to blind those who hunted him and to conceal a hail of electrified kunai. The scent of fresh blood and their anguished screams lingered in the stillness even after he’d put considerable distance between himself and his fallen foes.   

Two days spent traversing the windswept land, the unmerciful sun leaching his vitality with every step; frigid winds slicing through his heavy clothing like a straight edged razor by night – thoughts of home pushed him to put one foot before the other and press onward.  Off in the distance on the third day of his trek, rolling hills of clover, flora and fauna of greens and yellows came into view. 

 _A mirage_ , he thought.  _Or perhaps this is a genjutsu to trap me and drag me back to face justice._  

A frisson of hope sparked within him once he realized he’d stumbled into the boundaries of Kawa no Kuni (River Country). The Land of Wind and River Country maintained a tenuous alliance; a Sand shinobi wandering through their countryside wouldn’t attract undue attention. But news of a rogue shinobi with stolen information to sell and a hefty bounty on his head would have the rounds all across this tiny village by now.

He spent the next few days holed up in a cliff side cavern with his ninja hounds keeping watch as he recovered his strength; his furry companions took turns hunting small game and fetching water for his canteen, hoping to entice him into taking nourishment.  Dispatching one of them to Konoha with news of his status, he waited for nightfall. With the stars as his compass, the moon lighting his path, he headed for home.

By the dawn’s pale yellow light, the Land of Fire’s western border came into view.

Once the soles of his sandals sunk down in the mossy grasses of home, Kakashi dropped behind a copse of scarlet leaved viburnum shrubs; his heavy backpack slipped from his shoulders and he made quick work of ripping the beige Bedouin- like clothing from his body.  For months, the ill-fitting garb of a Sand chunnin had been his camouflage, his license to walk freely amongst his adversaries.  But with tensions and paranoia at an all-time high between the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind, dressed like this, he’d stand out like a bloated fuchsia rhinoceros in a field of green.   

 _A b _ad idea to__ _unduly_ _provoke the ‘stab first, ask questions later’ shinobi patrolling this area._  

As he rifled through his backpack,  words could not describe how good it felt when his fingertips brushed against the soft material of his regulation navy blue singlet. The comforting feel of his mask against wind burnt cheeks, the broken in green flak vest that  smelled faintly of dogs and the unaccustomed weight of his own hitai-ate covering the Sharingan made him feel more like himself.  For now, he’d gladly ignore the rough grains of sand still clinging to his body, chafing him in regions that only a trained medic or an inquisitive lover should have access to.    

He'd dismissed most of his hounds before leaving River Country, and now it was Pakkun's time to head back to his brothers with his thanks for their companionship and protection. Every crunch of twigs beneath his feet, broadened the grin on his face as timid woodland creatures scurried back to their hiding places; with every leap over rotting tree stumps and fallen branches, the heavy backpack dug a little deeper into his shoulders. 

The trees became sparser as he neared the village proper.

Soon, the information he carried would be in the hands of an anxious Hokage and a team from the Cypher corps. Standing on the crest of a hill overlooking the village’s main entrance, his happy thoughts of home shifted to the stern face of the heavy bosomed, blonde woman who was his commander in chief. Not only was she the strongest ninja in the land, she held the dubious distinction of being the most preeminent medical ninja in all the Five Shinobi Nations.

As he walked down the sloping hill, he hoped that the Hokage’s happiness over his safe return and the invaluable information he’d pilfered would be enough to grant him a few days of undisturbed rest and relaxation, but that was a gamble.  Having a world renowned medic for a leader had its benefits; he’d lost track of the times she’d saved his life with her ninjutsu. But those same healing hands could ascertain his physical status with a mere touch to his forehead and no amount of fast talking on his part could keep him from a hospital stay unless she said otherwise.

He’d downed handfuls of antibiotics and blood pills proactively these last three days, and he was confident his hastily dressed minor injuries wouldn’t require a stay in the hospital this time around.  Or so he hoped. The thought of anyone invading his personal space right now was making him irrationally edgy. 

 _No telling how I might react if someone put their hands on me without my say-so._  

Kakashi shook his head slightly; he needed to focus on what was really important -- the mission, successfully completed earlier than anticipated and the delivery of the information to the Hokage. His bone-weary body and painfully empty stomach each vied for prime consideration, each presenting valid reasons why his jaunt through the forest should lead him to his own home first, to a warm bed or into town for sustenance.   In the end, his mind prevailed over the protests of both. He vaguely remembered writing out the unclassified details of his mission by the flickering light of a small fire while cooped up in that cave; along with everything else he had, that report should satisfy all the requirements of a complete mission.

 _Humph,_ he sullenly thought _.  I might as well drop it off at the mission room, since I’ll be in the Hokage tower anyway._  

By now, he was close enough to hear the call to of a vigilant watchman when the towering gates of the Leaf village creaked open. That was all the welcome he wanted or needed now. The prickle of another person's chakra danced along his body, gently pulling at his frayed nerves, but they had to make sure he was who he appeared to be; Kakashi understood it and he was too relieved, too tired to complain. Waving him inside, the gate guards’ congratulatory words sailed past his ears and he slogged by the two men with a nod of his head. They obviously understood he was in no mood for mindless chitchat and had the decency to keep their conversations short.

Disappearing in a small cloud of chakra smoke, he was a tad light-headed when he appeared outside the Hokage’s office door; if the ANBU guards there had noticed his slight sway, they had the good sense not to reach out and steady him.

Snapping to attention, the ANBU to Kakashi’s left grabbed the doorknob, knocked once and swung the door open without a word.  

“Well, it’s about time,” Tsunade said when she turned away from the window behind her massive desk. “You look like hell, by the way.”

That was as close as she would come to confessing that she’d been worried about him, and that she was relieved to see that he was in one piece.

“Thank you ma’am,” was Kakashi’s solemn reply as he respectfully inclined his head toward her.   “I brought back a few souvenirs that you might want to add to your collection.”

As expected, her tired hazel eyes lit up when he strode toward her paper strewn desk and wordlessly dumped the contents of his rucksack.  Patiently standing at his version of attention while she skimmed over the information, he felt himself listing to the left once again.

Tsunade never looked up from the scroll she held, choosing rather to gruffly snap, "For cripe's sake Kakashi, sit down before you fall down.”

Kakashi spurned the offer, wanting nothing more than a chance to pass out in the privacy of his own apartment.  “I’m fine Lady Tsunade, just a little tired.”

What seemed an indeterminable amount of time silently passed before she announced, “Stand down shinobi.  You’ve done well. You even managed to catch me in a very generous frame of mind tonight.  Tell you what Kakashi, I’ll let you have one week to rest up, but I want your complete report on my desk first thing in the morning.”

"Yes, ma'am," was his relieved response, although he cringed a bit when the Hokage’s eyes flitted over him once more, knowing her assessment of his physical condition could mean the difference between his liberty and confinement to a hospital ward.

“Aside from looking and smelling like the landfill, you seem fine.” Under a scrunched up nose, there was a sly smile on her lips when she said, “ You should get a move on before I change my mind and give you a more thorough examination.”

Nodding his head wearily in acknowledgement, he turned to leave.  “Thank you, Tsunade-sama.” 

No sooner than the door closed behind him, Kakashi couldn’t hide a broad grin of satisfaction.  Though it pissed him off at the time, he was glad he’d prepared that report before leaving Suna; after he dropped it off in the mission room, he’d be one step closer to sleeping in his own bed tonight. 

Retrieving said report from his utility pouch, he shrugged his shoulders. Sure, the form was a little wrinkled, gritty and sweat soaked, but the damn thing was done and relatively legible.

Lurching into the brightly illuminated mission room, Kakashi was thrilled to find it empty, save for one brown-haired man sorting through papers; he was humming a familiar, somewhat off-key tune to himself, and that’s probably the reason he didn’t notice Kakashi’s presence until he stood inches from his desk.  Once Kakashi rapped his knuckles on the solid elm surface, the ingratiatingly cheerful man flashed him a friendly smile.

“Welcome home Hatake-san,” came the earnest greeting.

Kakashi had neither the time nor energy to identify this smiling sycophant. _A _s long as he does his job, I don’t really need to know who he is.__  

Producing the less than pristine report with a careless flick of the wrist, he released the paper, grinning mischievously as it fluttered from his gloved hand onto the desktop.  He turned on his heel and was halfway across the room when he heard the polite young man clear his throat.

“I’m terribly sorry Hatake-san,” the nettlesome paper-pusher said softly.  “I can’t accept this.”

_Oh for crap’s sake! How did I manage to meet up with this anal-retentive eager beaver?_

Kakashi spun around to face the smaller man, his jaw painfully tight with aggravation, and with each determined stride toward the desk, he squashed down the urge to fling a kunai into the wrinkled piece of printed wood pulp, but just barely. When his eye narrowed dangerously, he fully expected the chunnin to flinch.

Alas, the smiling young man seemed unconcerned for his personal safety. 

With a small shrug of the shoulders that said, ‘ _That’s the way it is’_ , the chunnin resolutely replied, “This has to be redone Hatake-san.”  He then had the nerve to wink adding, “Unless you don’t wish to receive credit and payment for this mission.”

That firm voice behind the sickeningly sweet smile annoyed Kakashi to no end, and an unpleasant stare down commenced. 

 _What's with this guy?  Seasoned mission room workers always accept my reports; if need be, I sign a blank form, they rewrite and submit the damn things without any backtalk_.  _Obviously this rookie needs more training in dealing with his superiors; damn shame I don’t have time to school him properly._

Kakashi’s palms thunderously connected with the desk’s smooth surface, knowing a modicum of craven acquiescence would accompany the action.  Once again, he’d miscalculated, for the desk-nin smiled brighter.  Pushing himself farther into the young man’s personal space had no effect on him either. 

“Look chunnin,” Kakashi snarled nastily, “You will accept my report, I will be credited with its completion, and I will be paid.  What part of that didn’t you understand?”

Ordinarily, Kakashi would have disappeared after such a pronouncement with a loud transportation jutsu and that would have been the end of it.  In truth, Kakashi didn’t have enough chakra to leave behind a swirl of dried leaves; “Ninja-do-right” smugly sitting behind his desk didn’t need to know that.

The sheer force of pent up testosterone overflowing from every pore in his body, coupled with the overly aggressive body language should have made the the desk clerk shake in his sandals, but the oblivious chunnin didn’t even bat an eyelash; he actually looked bemused by Kakashi’s efforts.

The young man’s smile remained when he tilted his head to say, “I apologize for the inconvenience Hatake-san. It should only take you a few minutes to rewrite this.”  Just then, a brawny light brown hand clasping a blank form and a pen appeared in Kakashi’s line of vision.  “Please, have a seat,” the man said.  “I need to file these reports anyway, so you can use my desk if you’d like.”

_Were those wide brown eyes beguiling him with optimism or were they just shining with raging lunacy?_

Determining a person’s character accurately was always a matter of pride for Kakashi, but this 'character' flouted explanation. Kakashi had initially written him off as a fastidious fussbudget with too much authority and not enough common sense.  The crisply pressed uniform he wore and his scrupulously trimmed, clean fingernails bolstered that impression.  _Evidently, this jackass spends more time nit-picking forms than leading teams in the field._ The uncluttered desk, and writing implements neatly arranged by size, further cemented the notion that the young man had deep-seated obsessive issues as well. 

_Moreover, what self-respecting ninja walks around smelling faintly of sandalwood and chalk dust?_

Yet there was something about the man’s eyes; they seemed to reach out and grab Kakashi’s attention in a frenzied chokehold.  A stubborn determination that he acknowledged within himself, smoldered within those cinnamon orbs. 

_Interesting-- nevertheless, Tsunade would string me up by my nuts if I strangled a comrade.  Maybe I’ll just have him brought up on charges of insubordination; that should wipe the stupid grin off his face!_

A steel grey eye drifted toward the highly polished brass nameplate exactly centered on the well-ordered desk.  

_ Umino Iruka. _ _So . . . this is the notorious little dolphin that scares the crap out of my colleagues._

The desire to get away from this man as quickly as possible outweighed his desire to punch him through the back wall; cursing under his breath when his heavy pack dug into tired shoulders, Kakashi made his hot displeasure known by letting the damn thing loudly collide with the floor.  Stiffly hunching over the desk to scratch out the blasted report he kept reminding himself that t _he sooner he get this over with, the sooner he could get the hell outta here!_

Iruka gestured for him to take his vacated uncomfortable looking chair and Kakashi shot him his best ‘go to hell’ look.  The young man simply went about his business, walking toward a bank of filing cabinets lining the opposite wall, blissfully unaware of the murderous intent directed toward him. 

By the time Iruka and his smarmy smile returned, the ink was dry on Kakashi's rushed signature, and Kakashi’s temper was rising.  Mustering all the spite he could, Kakashi flung the offending form in the man’s face.  

_There’s no way he could misinterpret that gesture!_

But if Iruka were offended or insulted, he didn’t let it show, on the contrary, those brown eyes lit up as if Kakashi had just handed him the coveted ‘Shinobi of the Year’ award. 

Kakashi shook his head sadly. _And they call me crazy!_

 “See, Hatake-san,” Iruka smirked, “that didn’t take very long, did it?”

Tremors of mounting irritation valiantly fought to overthrow his better judgment; he’d had it up to his eyeballs with the unceasing patronization from this grinning underling.  _I have to get out of here before my self-control completely evaporates._ He lingered instead, testily watching Iruka scan the form before he stamped and stuffed it in a manila folder for the Hokage’s review. 

“Finally,” he breathed.  Bending down to reclaim his pack, Kakashi declined acknowledgement of the cheery “Have a good night Hatake-san.”  As an afterthought, he snidely offered up a one-fingered salute of his own when he turned to exit the room once more. 

_I hope never again to cross paths with you . . . Umino Iruka._

The sharp shuffling sound of papers may have distorted the tone, but Kakashi distinctly heard Iruka tiredly sigh, “Geez, what a spoiled brat.” 

It took a hell of a lot for anything or anybody to crawl under Kakashi’s skin, but this little pipsqueak finally managed to pull the ripcord on his patience parachute.  A shaky hand, seconds from grasping the door handle clenched in a fist, and Kakashi abruptly turned about; Gai himself would have applauded his ‘youthful vigor’ had he witnessed the speed in which he crossed the room to snatch Iruka up by shoulders. 

The malevolence behind the words he uttered next unstopped a cistern of fury.  “What did you say−chunnin?”

Any rational person would have quailed in terror to find an enraged Copy Ninja attached to their person, but this ‘Iruka’ chap stared directly into his eye; unrepentant and unafraid.

That jaunty smile of his faded away, supplanted by an audacious smirk as Iruka slowly pried Kakashi’s fingers from his clothing. 

“I said, you… are… a… spoiled… brat,” Iruka eruditely enunciated.  “You’re used to people kissing your ass and bending to your will just because you’re an elite jounin, well sir, I won’t be doing that!” 

Kakashi stared open mouthed at this jackanapes, dumbstruck by the man’s patent death wish.  For the first time since he’d entered the room, Kakashi finally took notice of the heavily breathing man’s slightly stocky build.  Broad shoulders, well-defined biceps, and smooth brown forearms bespoke long hours of training and discipline. 

_Hmm—he’s feisty; might make an excellent sparring dummy for me some day._

“Brave last words chunnin,” he said as his eye raked over the defiant man before him.  I’ll give you this much,” he said between clenched teeth. “You’ve got quite the set of balls on you Umino Iruka.” 

“Damn right--big ones,” the cocky chunnin replied.  “Now run along Hatake-san,” he said with a dismissive wave, “Or you’ll find yourself across my knee, begging for mercy like the naughty little boy you are.”

Well that snapped Kakashi out of his stupor posthaste. 

If memory served correctly, only two persons ever swatted him on the butt in his twenty-seven years of life.  His father of course, but that was an isolated incident, and Minato-sensei.  Again, a singular event brought about by his stubbornness.  The pain long since forgotten, what remained was shame for disappointing two of the men he esteemed most. 

Now this prissy cretin dared rebuke and threaten him with physical chastisement?  

_What kind of mind-altering drugs was this guy on?_

One moment Kakashi stood before Iruka’s desk, his mouth agape, and eye blinking in disbelief.  The next moment, his world literally turned on its ear.  He wasn’t sure how Iruka managed to slap a chakra blocking seal on him, but he watched in stunned silence as his pack slipped from unfeeling fingers.  It was surreal how quickly Iruka bounded over the desk to grab his arm and then--the scuffed floor was a lot closer to his shocked face as his hips rested on Iruka’s thigh. 

Iruka used the discarded rucksack as a footstool, and Kakashi felt a slight stretching pain in his bicep when Iruka pinned his right arm against the small of his back.  He heard the loud noise of heavy fabric ripping and then there was a sudden cool breeze across his southern flank.  His uniform pants, slashed with a skillfully wielded kunai lazily pooled around his ankles; his standard issue undershorts resting above them. 

_What the hell?  Had this chunnin woven some type of high-level genjutsu? Or is there a flux in the Sharingan that's dredging up repressed memories?_

Those answers would have to wait as an unmistakable gathering of chakra behind him was the only warning he’d get before a searing and very real slap made his jaw drop.

  _I can’t move -- what the hell did he do to me?_

Iruka’s right arm and firm hand rained down stinging swats across his bared bottom and the tops of sensitive thighs faster than his mind could process.  Gasping for breath became his most urgent priority.  His normally well-ordered thoughts devolved into a muddled mass of twisted neurons, all shouting the same message -- PAIN. 

The cat-like reflexes that secured his fame in times past were sluggish now and every effort to twist away and gain the upper hand was rendered useless.  His perception of time, reality and illusion suffered the same impairment as the quick-fire cadence of Iruka’s hand bombarded his overwrought senses. 

In the distance or so it seemed, Iruka’s stern, clipped voice registered on the fringes of his consciousness.

“You should be grateful Hatake-san.  I’ve taken care to prepare you for what’s to come.”  

Feeling Iruka’s upper body separate from his when he leaned back to reach for something, Kakashi intended to tilt his hips upward and to the right to throw him off-balance, but Iruka was a damn sight quicker than he assumed.  All hopes of escape fell by the wayside when a muscular leg clamped down across the back of his knees.

“Save your strength naughty boy,” Iruka scolded.  “Your punishment is over when I’m satisfied you’ve learned your lesson.”

Iruka abruptly tipped Kakashi forward until his hipbones rested on the edge of a sinewy thigh.  Off balance in more ways than one, his left arm protectively cradled his forehead, while his right hand grabbed at Iruka’s ankle, desperately attempting to pull him off the desk.  In this awkward position, his hitai-ate was unintentionally pushed lower, covering both of his eyes, the smooth skin of his defenseless bottom was tautly stretched; worse of all, his cock pressed against the coarse fabric of Iruka’s pants providing unwanted friction.

Intense anger and embarrassment fueled his futile attempts at freedom but Iruka’s firm grip tightened.  Suddenly, something very cool, round, and decidedly wooden skimmed over his stinging bottom.

“This Hatake-san is the business end of a hairbrush,” Iruka stated harshly.  “A rather unassuming implement if you think about it.  Yet when vigorously applied --it’s highly effective in driving all thoughts of belligerence from a naughty boy’s head.  I think thirty of the best should be sufficient.”

“Screw you Umino!”  Kakashi shouted.  “I’m gonna beat the living sh-- “

The sharp snap of the hairbrush ricocheted within the room, halting him in mid-rant; his head involuntarily jerked upward and his eyelids slammed shut as volcanic heat erupted across his right buttock.  Once again, his prolific vocabulary disintegrated into sharply inhaled breaths and animalistic grunts long before Iruka reached the appointed tally. 

At some point during Iruka’s intensely thorough drubbing, every ounce of tension uncoiled and flowed out of his body; physically restrained, yet oddly liberated, his body no longer reacted or resisted. 

Were Iruka to tell him the sky was green with yellow polka dots and oxygen was addictive, he’d readily believe it.

After Iruka counted off and delivered the thirtieth strike, he heard him ask, “Shall we go with fifteen more for good measure naughty boy or have you learned your lesson?”

Too light headed to think straight, Kakashi’s traitorous mouth uttered something tantamount to blasphemy. 

“Damn it Iruka—Stop! I’ve learned my lesson, stop dammit!”

A muscular arm stretching across his collarbone slowly brought him back to the here and now.  Gentle fingers gripped his shoulder helping him to stand upright; sure hands lifted his hitai-ate, pushing the damp hairs from his face.  He watched in stunned silence as Iruka righted his clothing, carefully avoiding contact with his achingly prominent erection. 

Kakashi found he couldn’t speak, and even if he were able, mere words could not express the complexity of emotions rattling around inside him.  He was humiliated, confused, and more turned on than he cared to admit. 

Warm hands tenderly cradled his face, lifting his head: soft, full lips quickly brushed against Kakashi’s cheek. 

“Come on, let's get you out of here,” Iruka whispered. 

Like a drunk in the throes of a fantastical stupor, Kakashi felt his head loll forward. He despised weakness in others, yet here he stood, humbled as another man redressed him and gathered up his pack; his sense of self, was shredded to pieces much like his uniform pants, right up until the moment Iruka held him in his arms.  Caught up in the unsettling motion of a transportation jutsu, when next he opened his eyes, Iruka’s chest was firmly pressed against his as they stood in the middle of a dimly lit, cozy flat.

To say he was in shock was an understatement.  He was feverish and chilled to the bone at the same time; the ability to think or speak coherently was still outside his grasp. Yet Iruka seemed to understand his confusion as he took great pains to speak softly and move slowly as he helped him discard the remnants of his clothing. 

Allowing Iruka to lead him to a small, blue and white tiled bathroom, the tranquil cascading sounds of water filling the tub soothed away the jagged edges of his panic.  As he gingerly sat on the low hard plastic bathing stool, Kakashi felt rather than saw Iruka drape a small soft towel across his waist.  Another small washcloth was pressed into his unresponsive hand.

“You can wash and cover your face with this one Kakashi-san,” he heard Iruka softly say.

Iruka moved to stand behind him, directing a stream of tepid water across his aching shoulders, while soapy hands kneaded away hidden pockets of sand and tension. 

“Kakashi-san, if you remove your hitai-ate, it will make it easier for me to wash your hair.”

He did so without dithering.  The soothing strong fingers gently massaging his scalp further lowered his defenses and every bit of his clinging apprehension floated down the drain mingled with sandalwood scented suds. 

Once he’d eased him into the tub, Iruka called over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

Warm scented water lapping against his chin as he slid further down the porcelain tub brought much needed clarity and stirred up a hornet’s nest of unresolved questions in Kakashi’s cloudy mind. 

_What’s wrong with me?  I let a man beneath me in rank and skill overpower and humiliate me and then I let him bathe me?  This is either a really powerful genjutsu or I’m having that long awaited psychotic break I'd been warned about._

But before he could devise a definitive course of action or a plan of escape, Iruka made his surprise reappearance beside him.

“I’m leaving a pair of sleep pants and a bath towel for you,” he said, “right over there on top of the toilet seat, Kakashi-san. When you’re finished, please join me in the kitchen.”

Kakashi could have just transported home and blotted out this weird event with the help of a bottle of sake, but he had to see how this nightmare would end. 

When finally he wandered into the kitchen, his chest and feet bare and slightly damp, Iruka was smiling warmly as he stood near the stove. 

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the small table that occupied the middle of the kitchen.  "A light meal of miso soup, broiled fish, and vegetables materialized under his nose as soon as he sat down. 

“I hope you don’t mind having leftovers; they were the only things I could throw together on such short notice.”

Iruka allowed him to eat in peace, never once attempting to peek at him while they quietly enjoyed their meal.

Overwhelmed by these genuine acts of thoughtfulness, Kakashi still wasn’t sure what to make of the chunnin. 

W _as this his way of apologizing or did Iruka have a personality disorder the Hokage should know about?  Either way, for a certifiable nutcase, he was a fairly decent cook._

After they’d eaten their fill, Kakashi allowed himself to be lead once more, this time into the bedroom where Iruka guided him between soft sandalwood scented sheets.  With a tender kiss on the back of his neck, Iruka snuggled in behind him.

 

The quietly hummed tune of a familiar and off-key melody was the last thing Kakashi heard as Iruka curled himself around him.

 

 

 

 


	2. Misconception Part Two

 

  **Thanks again to my beta WeepingCadaver, for untangling my mess of words.  
**

 

 

* * *

 

Long before the morning sun stirred from its hiding place, the sounds of trilling sparrows, the aroma of fresh coffee brewing, and the sensation of warm, soft linens against his skin nipped at the edges of Kakashi’s consciousness.  After the most restful night's sleep in ages restored his chakra to near normal levels, it was a welcome surprise and relief not to deal with the typical 'post mission mind fog' for a change.  Intending to roll onto his side, as he usually did to savor the first indulgent stretch of the day, twinges of pain shooting through his rear flank nixed that plan in mid-turn.   
  
He was fully awake now and that's when he remembered he owned neither a coffee pot, nor sheets this soft and fragrant.

_I’m on the wrong side of the bed too – what the hell?_

Pulling the covers up to his chin and cautiously looking to his right, his bed mate softly snored, shifting slightly in response to Kakashi’s movement.  _Well, that explains why I’m on the other side of the bed.  But who did I go home with last night?_

Leaning closer to the part of a face that wasn’t pressed into the pillow, he was having a difficult time identifying the lucky lady beneath that tangled mass of thick, wavy brown hair.  A mouth slackened in repose, full lips, slightly parted and moist, ‘she’ was average looking from what he could tell.  As his pale fingers cautiously brushed against wayward strands, he was taken aback when he saw a smooth scar stretching under a relaxed right eye . . . a scar that seemed to smile at him when his partner scrunched a turned up nose.

Recognition dawned on him like a rabbit punch to the kidneys and Kakashi scooted away as if the man sleeping beside him were a hissing cobra. 

_Umino Iruka!  By the gods, last night wasn’t a dream!_

For once in his life Hatake Kakashi, a man well versed in the covert art of stealing away with the dawn after regrettable one night stands, had absolutely no frame of reference for circumstances such as these. 

 _Should I leave a note?   Should I_ _garrote him while he sleeps?_

_What exactly should I say to the man that paddled my ass?_

With a quizzical glare toward the still snoring lump beside him, Kakashi eased out of the comfortable nest of linens.  Creeping across the room, he gathered up what he hoped was his own uniform, and the rest of his gear that lay atop the dresser by the bedroom door. 

And without a backward look, he transported to his apartment in a quietly confused puff of chakra smoke.

Once safely entrenched in the fortress he called home, his first instinct was to create the same amount of psychological distance from Iruka as he had physically; turns out that was easier said than done.  He reeked of sandalwood mingled with Iruka's uniquely pleasant smell.

 _Scent_ . . .  a fundamental sense tied to memory, and the very last thing he wanted clinging to him was any reminder of the man who humbled him last night.

Sprinting toward the bathroom, slinging his mangled uniform across the nearest horizontal surfaces as he ran, he ripped back the shower curtain; the faucet turned to its highest setting soon filled the tiny room with a heavy mist.  Yanking down the borrowed sleep pants as if they'd singe his flesh, he kicked them aside.  And just as he was set to step under the scalding stream, a patch of red caught his eye in the slowly fogging mirror above the sink.   
  
Sweeping away the condensation with his hand, that’s when he plainly saw them—angry patches of crimson marring the firm expanse of his otherwise alabaster hindquarters.  Disbelieving fingers hesitantly brushed over his bottom to confirm what his eye refused to admit.

There were a few areas where the redness deepened in color until it was almost burgundy; right where the curve of his cheeks met the top of his thighs, there were two distinctly raised areas that looked as if he’d been branded with a round object. These areas were warmer to the touch, and slightly swollen, thanks to the repetitive application of an unforgiving wooden implement. 

Simultaneously enraged and sporting an erection harder than flint, he stood there . . . confused, turned on and a tad freaked out by his body's betrayal.

The longer he looked over his shoulder into the mirror, the more vividly he recalled the sounds of Iruka’s hand and that damnable hairbrush making repeated contact with his skin.  Even when he closed his eyes, he could still feel the rough, scratchy texture of Iruka’s uniform pants pressed against the front of his thighs and the warmth of Iruka’s forearm against the small of his back. 

Without his bidding, stark images of himself stretched across Iruka’s lap, taking his punishment like Iruka’s ‘naughty boy’ promenaded through his mind, heightening his arousal.  Iruka’s stern voice, bounced around the inside of his skull and as it did, a calloused hand drifted down his chest . . . to his abdomen . . . and stopped its wandering at the crown of an erection poking at his navel.

His breathing, erratic now, seemed to push his hand closer to the base of his erection, as he mentally struggled to quell the urge to stroke himself -- he failed miserably.  As his hand moved of its own volition, trembling fingers wrapped around turgid flesh, his strokes, long and purposeful.  Abandoning logic and reason, his pressed his back against a wall slick with water droplets -- he was losing control of himself and he didn’t care.  Rough strokes accelerated as the fragrance of sandalwood oozed from his pores; he was defenseless against the powerfully conflicting emotions that overwhelmed him.

 _I’m not a masochist,_ he raggedly breathed.  _This_ . . . _this is just . . . pent-up tension . . . from the mission._

Iruka had taken liberties with him that no other person ever dared attempt, as if it were his right to do so; that made his blood boil, yet even though his bitter contempt was justified, he couldn’t prevail against the demands of his body, nor muster the ill will in his mind to despise the man. A man he deemed unworthy of a second glance had shamed him, disciplined him like a rebellious child, and then that same man turned about and catered to his basic needs, all but rocking him to sleep afterwards. 

_Nothing made sense any more._

The brute force of his orgasm caught him off-guard, dropping him to his knees in a perplexed heap beside the bathtub.  With his heart racing and his thoughts scrambled, he lay there disoriented, his carnal appetite temporarily appeased. Once sense and reason returned, he crawled into the tub and sat under the spray of water still hot enough to sear away the memories which threatened to drive him insane.

_I need answers dammit!  I have to understand what’s happening to me and why._

_\--------_

The next three days were spent sequestered in the spartan confines of his apartment; wiling away the hours strategizing, plotting, carefully analyzing the ‘whys’ and ‘wherefores,’ as he relived the events of that evening.

While he seriously doubted  Iruka was the type to flap his gums and spread abroad the sordid details of his disgrace throughout the village, he had no desire to to mingle with the masses, or to face his fellow shinobi.  His appetite withered as his waking thoughts were consumed by images of Iruka’s face; in the midnight hours, sleep, what little he could have of it, provided no respite from the sound of Iruka’s voice.  It was as if he were possessed, driven by an unseen force to heights of sexual fulfillment and the depths of sexual vexation by the unassuming, brown haired mission room worker.

Day four of seclusion found Kakashi a haggard, ravenously hungry, and rather mean, shell of himself, no closer to solving the dilemma that was Iruka than he was the day before.

No matter how many times he turned the situation over in his mind, he always arrived at the same two conclusions:

First off, Iruka took advantage of his vulnerable state; he was exhausted and very low on chakra when he met the wily chunnin that night, a comrade whom Kakashi did not or rather, could not consider a threat to his physical being.  The only way he could redeem himself in his own mind, was to beat the smirking chunnin to a bloody pulp.

_I could lure him away to a remote training ground, beat the crap out of him and say it was a training mishap._

Thinking of how good it would feel to throttle the other man was like a balm to his maimed ego, but the second conclusion he always came to concerning Iruka, was the most troublesome:

Lust . . .  the impenitent, smoldering lust that ate away at him each time he thought of that man.  How was he to extinguish the unquenchable flames of a prurience that latched onto his very being at the mention of Iruka’s name?

_I’ve had more sex partners than I can count, yet none of them ever left me ‘feeling’ like this! And here’s the real kick in the nuts; we didn't even have sex!_

He knew he had to do something extreme and quick in order to diffuse the frustration bubbling and churning inside him.  Dressing hurriedly, he finally left his home hoping to find the only man in Konoha who would let him vent without taking an ass kicking personally; Maito Gai!

  
  
   -----

Exactly two hours and thirty-seven minutes later, Kakashi was sweatier and more enraged than he’d been these past few days.  Due to his preoccupation, Gai easily outmaneuvered and soundly trounced him eight out of ten times.  Their spar, such as it was did nothing to alleviate the tension he felt and getting rid of his Eternal Rival at this point would be more of a struggle than fighting him had been.

“This is so unlike you Kakashi,” Gai bellowed across the training grounds.  “I have never seen you so lost in thought.”

“Shut up Gai!” he roared, levering himself upright.  Dislodging a few stray twigs from the inside of his flak jacket, Kakashi slowly stood and turned to leave; as expected, Gai suddenly appeared beside him.  He never stopped walking even when that beefy green arm slung itself over his shoulder.

“It is as if the Sword of Damocles is hanging over your bowed down head Kakashi,” said the grinning Green Beast.   “Not only is that bad for one’s posture, it is most definitely unyouthful to keep things bottled up inside.” 

With a slap to Kakashi’s back that would have loosened a feebler man’s lung, Gai went on to say, “You are my rival for all eternity -- my most treasured friend and adversary.  I am concerned for your safety Kakashi.  You are far too distracted by something my friend, and for you, that’s extremely dangerous.”

Looking off into the distance, Kakashi said nothing; he knew Gai wouldn’t shut up until he either sucker punched him in the throat or he voluntarily spilled his guts.  He was too tired to attempt either of those things -- for now, he just keep walking.

The heavy arm slipped from his shoulder to grab him by the elbow, turning him to face the knitted eyebrows and an uncharacteristic frown. 

“I have never once betrayed your confidence Kakashi, nor will I ever.  But you must unburden yourself.”  Folding his arms across his chest, Gai looked him in the eye and said, “Are not my manly shoulders broad enough to lay your concerns on them?”

_Well what do you know? Gai was right.  It was high time for me to unburden myself, to face the one responsible for disrupting my way of life._

“Thanks Gai,” he said. “Now, if you’ll pardon me, I’ve got a dolphin to filet.”

Leaving his rival to proclaim his victory to the skies, Kakashi dusted himself off and took off running toward the village proper.  Gai was right; he was distracted and distraction of this magnitude could get him killed.  The closer he got to the Hokage Tower, he realized that if Iruka wasn’t in the mission room at this hour of the evening, he had no idea where else to look for him.  Trying to pick out Iruka’s apartment from the hundreds of others in the chunnin housing complex was out of the question too; asking somewhere where Iruka lived would only invite more gossip or speculation – that, he couldn’t deal with right now.

By the time he arrived in the mission room, it was packed.  Three overwhelmed chunnin staffed the main desk and the room was abuzz with way too much noise.  Stretching his senses about the area, he located Iruka’s chakra signature at the head of the longest and fastest moving line to his left.  Briefly acknowledging a few of his peers with a nod, Kakashi joined the line and retreated behind the cover of his notorious little orange book; small talk was never his forte and he had to remain focused on what he’d come to do this evening.

When only two people stood between him and Iruka, a curiously unidentifiable feeling flickered in his stomach.  The sensation tingling in his groin however was more familiar and becoming damned insistent.  Ignoring them both, he let the prose of Icha Icha Paradise carry him away until he heard Iruka say, “Do you have a report for me, Hatake-san?”

“Nope,” Kakashi found his voice.  “But we need to talk.”

“Well, my shift ends in fifteen minutes,” was Iruka’s convivial response.  “Can you come back then?”  That sunny smile brightly flashed again before he barked out, “Next!”

The business-like discharge, so polite and professional, still stung like hell. 

Finding a quiet corner in the hectic mission room was damn near impossible, but Kakashi was nothing if not resourceful.  Making use of a camouflage jutsu, he seated himself atop a neatly arrayed line of filing cabinets near the chunnin’s desk and waited.  It wasn’t the most comfortable seat in the house, but it proved an ideal vantage point for keeping Iruka in his sights.   

How strange; Kakashi could work around someone purposely intending to separate him from life or limb, which was an annoying occupational hazard he’d learned to live with long ago.  Umino Iruka on the other hand, posed a greater threat to his mental health.  He had no idea what Iruka wanted from him, nor how to conduct himself in Iruka’s presence; it was unsettling.

The last person in line, an excitedly embarrassed young man, shifted from foot to foot as Iruka pored over his mission report.  Kakashi almost felt sorry for the kid when Iruka launched into an impromptu lecture about the importance of good penmanship. 

“I’m sorry Iruka-sensei,” the young man hesitantly replied.  “I was kinda excited, this being my first solo mission and all.  I guess I wanted to get my report turned in as fast as possible.”

Naturally, Kakashi’s interest was piqued.  _Would Iruka reprimand this man as he did me?_   Suspiciously eying the slight young man now seated beside Iruka's desk, Kakashi dispelled the jutsu and hopped off his perch to lean over the furiously scribbling shinobi.

_This kid can't be a day over eighteen, don't tell me Iruka's interested in this pimply faced punk?_

All at once, an inexplicably foreign heaviness bloomed in his chest, prodding him to prevent the unsuspecting young man from hogging any more of Iruka’s attention. 

_Sweet Kami is this what jealousy feels like?_

Iruka's chuckle completely derailed Kakashi's introspection and his homicidal train of thought.

"Ah, Hatake-san, what perfect timing.  Allow me to introduce, Michiba Chikao, a former student of mine."

Chikao nodded his head respectfully, "Pleased to meet you sir."

Snapping his fingers as his eyes widened with inspiration, Iruka said, "This is perfect!  If you wouldn't mind Hatake-san, perhaps you can help Chikao understand the importance of taking the time to prepare and submit legible mission reports."  Tapping the young man on the shoulder Iruka encouraged him to "Pay close attention to what Hatake-san has to say.  He's one of Konoha's elite jounin and I'm certain his words of wisdom will serve you well."

Kakashi's cheeks flushed brightly beneath the mask of blue.  "Yeah, it's real important kid," he sarcastically remarked.  "Sloppy writing makes it hard for the statistic compiling bureaucrats to accurately pay you for your missions; remember that.”

Mild shock and major irritation were rolling off Iruka like a landslide now; figuring discretion would be the better part of valor, Kakashi added, "Basically, just make sure you do what Iruka-sensei tells you, and I'm sure you'll be fine."

Iruka rolled his eyes, taking the backhanded compliment and half-assed explanation in stride.  “I can leave as soon as Chikao-kun finishes, he said.  “Hope you don’t mind grabbing a bite to eat while we converse Hatake-san.”

 “Whatever Iruka- _sensei_ ,” Kakashi sulkily replied.  “Just as long as we ‘converse’, it doesn’t matter where.”

Chikao nervously glanced between the clearly pissed off, Copy Ninja and the unruffled Iruka-sensei and promptly decided he wanted no part of whatever the hell was going on between those two. 

Handing the form to Iruka, praying it was satisfactory this time, he offered a shamefaced, "Sorry for making you stay so late Iruka-sensei."

"Not a problem," Iruka reassured the panicky Chikao.  After a few tense moments, Iruka smiled.  "Congratulations, your first solo mission officially goes on record as completed!  You've done well, and I'm very proud of you."

Though he relished such high praise, he had no intention of hanging around for the imminent fireworks.  Considering it an honor to share Iruka-sensei's last moments, he deeply bowed himself in gratitude and then bolted from the room, leaving Iruka-sensei to fend for himself against Sharingan no Kakashi.

  _It's a damn shame,_ Chikao thought as he ran down the hall. _Iruka-sensei_ _was a good instructor and a good man.  I'm sure gonna miss him._

TBC…

 

 


	3. Misdirection

Twenty minutes ago, the mission room overflowed with animated conversation and raucous laughter, which allowed Kakashi to blend into the surroundings and study Iruka, undetected.  An hour ago, Kakashi had a definitive exit strategy planned; he’d return the crumpled sleep pants he escaped in, and brusquely deliver the succinct speech he’d prepared.  He’d be brief, he’d be blunt… he’d be gone. 

Twenty-three minutes and ten seconds later, both his brilliant plan and speech blew up in his face; shot to hell by a friendly smile and seven little words from the chipper chunnin.  “I’ll be with you shortly Hatake-san,” Iruka said. 

An imperceptible tremor shot through him, but this wasn’t anger.  No, this was something more primeval and horribly ill timed; a convergence of lust, want…need.  When shaking his head briskly failed to dislodge these errant sensations, Kakashi almost drew blood as his nails dug into the palm of his hand.  Hoping the shooting pain would stave off his nascent erection, Kakashi hung his head in defeat.  _This just isn’t my day is it?_

Betrayed by his body, and undone by memories, he darkly glared at the ingenuous Iruka who’d taken to humming that irritating little ditty again.  It may have been a hunger-induced delusion, but he could swear the expansive mission room walls suddenly shrunk around him, forcing all his awareness on the small space Iruka occupied.  Every sound, every little movement Iruka made was magnified tenfold.  The earthy aroma of sandalwood wrapped around him as Iruka stirred about, inveigling his mind to recall Iruka’s steady heartbeat against his back.

_Get it together Hatake!  Stay focused on the hostility that brought you here._

A high-pitched squeak from a rebellious desk drawer opening sliced through the weighty silence; its effect like nails on a chalkboard jolted him from this mesmeric state.  Iruka was rooting around the broad compartment mumbling something about ‘damn smokers and cigarette butts strewn about,’ when the highly polished, dark mahogany colored handle of a hairbrush slid forward to openly mock him.

At once, the tiny hairs on Kakashi’s arms stood at attention, his gut twisted violently, and his heart rate galloped like a panicked impala.  Over the raging internal tumult, he caught the last bit of Iruka’s comment, but just barely.

“…wasn’t very polite Hatake-san.  I mean seriously, Chikao-kun almost pissed his pants.”  Iruka’s snickering transformed into full-blown cachinnation faster than a lightning bolt piercing the night sky.  He was working up to a serious stitch in the side when he spluttered, “Did you…did you see his face?”

Iruka’s laughter was infectious, like a virus on industrial strength steroids; slivers of Kakashi’s remaining stoicism huddled together in solidarity waving the white flag of unconditional surrender.  Torn between despising and approving of Iruka’s aptitude for breaching his defenses, the sullen smirk Kakashi struggled to maintain became a smile, and then…a robust laugh. 

_That’s right chunnin, keep giving me reasons to dislike you._

Mercifully, their amusement died a quick death when the mission room door discreetly opened behind them.  Recognizing the chakra signature, Kakashi was never more grateful for whatever distraction this nosy bastard would provide.

Genma’s uneasy laughter joined theirs as he trundled across the room, “What…what did I miss?”  Stopping in his tracks to the right of Kakashi, he eyed both men curiously.  His senbon twitched accusingly with each sideways glance between the sniggering shinobi, “The hell’s so funny you two?” 

Catching his breath Iruka tried to explain, “Ah, Genma-san… you had to be here.”

Only a few minutes were necessary for Iruka to compose himself and slip back into his default administrator mode.  Wiping a stray tear from his eye, Iruka launched into his briefing, “It should be a relatively quiet shift.  Asuma’s due back shortly, and then you can close up for the night.”  Grabbing his overstuffed satchel he warned, “There’s a clean ashtray somewhere in my top drawer Genma-san; find it and make sure he uses it please.”  Turning toward Kakashi with a polite smile, Iruka asked, “Are you ready to go Hatake-san?” 

Hesitant to trust his own voice, Kakashi grunted affirmatively and fell in step with Iruka.  He made a point of keeping his head down, his hands deep in his pockets, and his mouth shut, as Iruka led him along winding back roads to an area of the village he seldom visited.  _So, he’s dragging me deeper into the civilian sector; smart move chunnin.  The Hokage took a dim view of rowdy shinobi behavior in general, but causing problems here carried harsher penalties._

While Iruka pointed out areas of interest like an over caffeinated tour guide, Kakashi listened intently, eager to understand how the younger man’s mind worked.

Nearing the edge of town, Kakashi couldn’t resist the urge to tease the exuberant man, “I’m surprised at you Iruka.  You’ve neglected to mention the best attraction in this part of the village.”

“Didn’t see the need,” Iruka shot back with a grin.  “Everybody knows the largest adult bookstore in all of Fire Country is situated in the red light district.  Since I assumed you were a regular customer, I didn’t want to be redundant.”

Their conversation tapered off when they entered a nondescript dinky little restaurant with an atmosphere far too friendly for Kakashi’s tastes.  One of the wait staff, a matronly bespectacled woman, immediately latched onto Iruka hugging him as if she’d known him all his life.   _Figures, he’s more of a civilian than a shinobi._

 It didn’t take her too long before she was playfully pestering Iruka about his love life.  Oddly enough, the knot in Kakashi’s stomach loosened when he heard Iruka bemoan not having found that special someone yet.

Sensing Kakashi’s discomfort with this ebullient display of affection, Iruka lightheartedly taunted, “Relax, Tokiwa-san has been trying to marry me off since I was seventeen.  Better be on your guard Hatake-san, lest she set her matchmaking talents on you as well.”

Tokiwa grinned mischievously, “Don’t be ridiculous Iruka-kun.  I mean no offense to your friend here, but he’s too scrawny.  Most of the eligible girls I know are looking for a much younger man with some meat on his bones, like you.”

Kakashi ignored her; busybodies he could handle, Iruka however, was an altogether different story.  _Who would have thought the brash chunnin was so bashful?_   The same stern face, which angrily confronted him days ago, now sported a light blush resting on grin stretched cheeks.  Those communicative brown eyes which narrowed in displeasure at him, shone with an indulgence that bespoke familial love.  That voice, so masterfully curt with reproof for Kakashi was now smoother than premium aged whiskey.  

After leading them through a cluster of tables, the woman gestured to a defensibly positioned booth and disappeared into the kitchen.  Aside from himself and Iruka, an elderly couple sat far enough away to prevent eavesdropping.  Based on the volume of their conversation, they could scarcely hear each other, let alone him and Iruka.  _Perfect, now I won’t have to mince my words when I cuss him out._

“In case you’re wondering, Hatake-san,” Iruka whispered, “this is a family style restaurant.  Whatever strikes the cook’s fancy at dinner time is what they serve.”

“Ah, that explains the absence of menus,” Kakashi cagily responded.  After a beat, Kakashi cynically added, “Iruka, you’ve seen more of me than most non-medical personnel usually do, so I think it’s safe for you to call me Kakashi now.”

Another brilliant red flush spread over his high cheekbones, “I suppose that’s true Hatak…umm, Kakashi.”  Leaning back into the booth with his arms crossed over his chest, Iruka was all business,   “All right, let’s get to it.  You’re still upset about what happened a few days ago, aren’t you?”

 _The man’s too mercurial for his own good, yet another reason to stay away from him after tonight._ Kakashi’s curt response cut deeper than a Greenland’s winter gust, “You know I’ve killed greater men for lesser offences.”  

“Nonsense, we’re comrades,” Iruka responded with a snort.  “Besides, you respect me too much.”

It was Kakashi’s turn to slouch against the upholstered backrest.  “Actually, I think you’ve got a few screws loose Iruka.”  Though he grudgingly respected the man’s brio, he was going to make damn sure there would be no repeat performances.  “Listen up Iruka…”

“Excuse me sirs,” another server meekly interrupted, “Our manager is honored by your presence and wishes you to enjoy this special meal with his compliments.”  After spreading a humble feast before them, she bowed low to whisper, “Thank you so very much for all your …”

 Kakashi graciously nodded his head; _finally_ , _the type of reception befitting me._ He was just about to utter some insincere drivel when she sweetly said, “…Iruka-san, we appreciate your kind concern.”

Cocking his head toward the smiling chunnin, his eye narrowed in suspicion.  Once the clearly confused waitress retreated from them, Kakashi was incredulous, “What was that all about Iruka?” 

“Oh,” he smiled, “I help out at the orphanage from time to time, teaching the kids how to read and write.”  Iruka shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the intense scrutiny, “Do go on Kakashi, I think you were just about to threaten me again.”

 _Wiseass chunnin, he knows I can’t strangle him here…too many witnesses._  “As I was saying, I’m not exactly sure what happened between us a few days ago,” he tactlessly confessed.  “Nonetheless, comrade or not … I will definitely kill you if you try something like that again.”

Iruka looked up from his soup with an impish grin, “You and I are not that different Kakashi.  We play our respective roles in the village’s defense to the utmost of our ability.  Your duties take care of the present, mine prepare for the future.  We both have a strong need to be in control of our respective environments and …”

Kakashi impatiently gestured with his chopsticks, “Your point being what exactly?” 

“You disappeared from my home thinking I’d wrested control from you when in fact you yielded control to me.  My point is your frustration is misplaced; the person you’re really angry with is yourself …”

“I hardly think that’s an accurate statement.  If I’m not mistaken, you jammed up my chakra with some high-level and very likely forbidden jutsu.  If that’s not wresting control from a person, then I don’t know what is.”  _Dammit, that sounded a lot less petulant in my head._

Pushing aside his half-finished bowl, Iruka addressed the peevish jounin with care, “You’re right Kakashi that was a high-level jutsu, one you could easily have escaped from, if your mind were properly focused.  You know darn well it’s not a forbidden jutsu either.” 

The broiled salted saury on his plate suddenly became infinitely more fascinating to Kakashi, and he refused to respond.

“I used that jutsu as a means of self-preservation; I may be bold, but I’m not a fool Kakashi.  The jutsu kept you still long enough for me to get my point across, and you obviously suffered no lingering ill effects.”  With a measured glare akin to a hunter having cornered his prey, Iruka sarcastically intoned, “Tell me something.  How is it that you have over a thousand jutsu at your disposal, yet you used nary a one to extricate yourself from the situation?” 

 _Damn you Iruka!  I’ve been asking myself the same question over the last few days._  

When Kakashi again failed to respond, Iruka concluded, “Shall we assume that ‘yielding control’ was an accurate description of your actions?”  His smile was confident now and he shrewdly winked, “I’d even go so far as to say that you enjoyed the personalized attention, however negative its form.”

 _What a percipient bastard!_ “I never pegged you as one of Morino’s minions Iruka,” Kakashi awkwardly joked.  “But if this is Ibiki’s new approach to a random psych evaluation, I have to say it’s rather lame.”

Iruka shyly lowered his head, “You’re much closer to the truth on that one then you realize Kakashi.  I teach pre-genin at the Academy, and when it comes to identifying spoiled brats, I suppose you could say I’m something of an expert.”

“You’re comparing me to one of your snot-nosed students, Iruka sensei?”

“Not exactly Kakashi,” he chuffed.  “You’re taller, and more cunning.” 

 _One more question, and I can leave tonight behind with no regrets._ Kakashi rested his ceramic spoon in his empty bowl, “Why aren’t you afraid of me Iruka?” 

Iruka’s response was swift and equally brusque.  “Why should I be?” 

 _Has this man been living under a rock or something?_ Leaning forward abruptly, Kakashi menaced, “I’m a trained killer Iruka, and according to my last psych evaluation, a danger to myself and others…should I snap.”

Iruka considered that for a few seconds.  Smirking, he tapped his own forehead protector, “I’m a trained killer too, who just so happens to train other killers on a daily basis.  I’m aware of your reputation Kakashi, but I’m also aware that you can be a conceited, condescending jerk when the mood strikes you.  You’ve got it twisted my friend; fear and respect are entirely different entities.  This is only my opinion but I believe fear is an intangible emotional response triggered by mutable circumstances.  Respect on the other hand, is a series of tangible actions cultivated by a constant.”

“Not really in the mood for a philosophical debate Iruka.” 

“Of course, the reason I always treat you courteously Kakashi is because I do respect you.  I’ve always admired your unfailing dedication to this village and its people, and I always will.  Nevertheless, when you laid hands on me the other day in the mission room, every scrap of courtesy and admiration flew out the window.  I had to make you understand that I wouldn’t tolerate that type of foolishness.  It’s beneath a man of your stature.”

Taken aback by the insult compliment, Kakashi ground out, “You verbally and physically assaulted a superior officer.  That’s grounds for an automatic reduction in rank and maybe some jail time as well.  Seeing that I’m a ‘conceited condescending jerk’, I should report you, but I’ll settle for a sincere apology.”

Iruka heartily chuckled, “Then don’t hold your breath Kakashi, because it isn’t gonna happen.  I wounded your pride and I’ll make no apologies for doing so.”  Iruka grinned and snagged the last pork dumpling from the communal plate, “Go ahead, report me.  I’m sure the Hokage and the Council of Elders will get a kick out of your detailed description of the assault.”  Another deep chuckle, “Humph, the infamous Copy Ninja bested by a lowly Academy instructor; it’ll be the talk of the town for months.”  Iruka looked up from his own plate, “Was there something else you wanted to discuss?”

Kakashi had to laugh at himself, “Nope that should do it Iruka-sensei.”  _Cheeky bastard, he’s fierce and as stubborn as I am.  Guess the evening hasn’t been a total loss; I did get some of the answers I was looking for._

Digging into their cooling repast, the conversation flowed smoothly, and despite Kakashi’s initial impressions of Iruka, he was starting to like him.  _Crap!_   Much to his surprise, he learned they shared many common interests, a love of military history for one thing.  _Well, that’s a point in your favor chunnin._ Iruka’s observations were astute, which stimulated his higher brain functions, and his sense of humor was dry and almost as bawdy as Kakashi’s.  Even Iruka’s impersonation of a hung over Tsunade was spot on and dammed hilarious.

_Well this isn’t going the way I’d planned.  I’m still leery of this joker and yet I’m at ease in his presence as if I’d known him for years.  Regardless, he bears watching because there’s something extremely dangerous behind that innocent smile of his._

After desert, they leaned back in their separate places, stuffed like two ticks on a bloodhound.

His appetite sated, Kakashi was abruptly jarred from his blissful state of mind when Iruka unexpectedly uttered these words, “I won’t be just another notch on your bedpost Kakashi.” 

 _What is he, a mind reader?_ Quick thinking and remarkable reflexes were the only things that kept him from falling out of the booth. “That’s it, no more sake for you,” he joshed, “Come on, I’ll walk you home and …”   

“We’re shinobi," Iruka soberly retorted, “Shinobi don’t have the luxury of beating around the bush.  I demand fidelity, honesty, and respect in a relationship and will reciprocate in kind.  If you’re unwilling or unable to give the whole of yourself to me, then I suggest you look elsewhere.”

Blindly reaching for his own sake cup, Kakashi tipped it back hastily.  For once, his nimble mind was stuck in neutral.  Since he couldn’t dredge up a believable lie to save his life, he simply said, “I wasn’t looking for a one night stand Iruka, or a committed relationship.”  His eye slowly raked over Iruka, “On second thought, I might consider a ‘friends with benefits’ type of arrangement, if you’re interested in that sort of thing.”

“Not interested Kakashi.”  Looking directly into his eye, Iruka reminded him, “Perhaps you missed this, but with me it’s all or nothing.”

Kakashi leered devilishly, “I obviously misjudged you; seems you’re not the prude I thought you were.  You’re looking for a master/slave type situation, am I right?”

“Nope, that’s not my thing either.  What I’m looking for is a relationship between equals.  I have no desire to alter your identity, but I will take great pleasure in smoothing out some of your rougher edges.”  Eyeing Kakashi thoughtfully, he added, “Yeah, I definitely believe you could benefit from some …behavior modification.”

“Careful Iruka-sensei, that sounds like a challenge.” 

“Pardon me then, I meant it as a statement of fact, not a challenge per se.”

“Maa…I’ve never been one to shy away from learning new things, and if properly motivated, I just might…wait a minute, ‘behavior modification’?  What the hell is that supposed to mean Iruka?”

“Ah, so you’re the type that needs an audio-visual presentation in order to grasp a concept-- interesting.  Iruka grinned wickedly inclining his head toward the exit.  “In that case Kakashi, I guess it’s time for show and tell.”

Slamming down enough coinage to outfit the staff with new uniforms as a tip, Kakashi slid away from table thinking, _excellent, he’s a mind reader after all._

TBC…

 

NOTE:

The name Tokiwa means: “Eternally constant.”

 


	4. Rules of Disengagement

Once again, I tip my hat to the one and only WeepingCadaver.  Girl, you’re starting to scare me…in a good way.

* * *

 

 

What Kakashi expected when they reached Iruka’s place was some hot, steamy action, preferably against the nearest vertical or horizontal surface.  The location wasn’t nearly as important as having Iruka beneath him…writhing, moaning, or both. 

What Kakashi got was indeed hot, steamy, and very wet; a horizontal surface was involved too.  Sadly, it was only a mug of jasmine tea served atop Iruka’s spotless kitchen table.  _Damned expectations!_

One thing Kakashi hadn’t anticipated was how to get around the Iruka-sized impasse seated to his right.  What should have been the continuation of friendly banter, rapidly devolved into an intensely silent battle; which of them possessed the stronger will?

This current détente was the result of a relatively simple question.  All Iruka wanted was for Kakashi to part with a piece of himself he’d spent half his life ruthlessly defending.  Kakashi had no intention of letting anyone anywhere near that part of himself.  So they sat, one brooding over his tea, the other glaring out the window.

What Kakashi needed was a foolproof plan of escape, and until he came up with one, he’d evade the question at all costs.  Failing that, he could quite convincingly feign ignorance of the subject.  His final option was to anger Iruka beyond the point of reason, in hopes that he’d forget the question entirely and toss him out on his ear. 

Unfortunately, Iruka was like a hungry junkyard dog with a bone, so to speak.

“I think it’s a good idea to get this thing out in the open and examine it from all sides, don’t you Kakashi?”

“Why…  Iruka-sensei, aren’t you the brazen one?” he feebly joked.  “Do you seriously want me to whip it out…right here…in the kitchen?”

Another exasperated huff came from Iruka’s side of the table. “Smart ass…didn’t we agree we need to be honest with each other or weren’t you listening to that part?”

Figuring the unvarnished truth would either reduce Iruka to a fit of laughter or confound him into silence, he snarked, “As a matter of fact, I was thinking about your lips wrapped around my cock and I didn’t hear a word you said.” 

Kakashi almost choked on his tea when Iruka calmly replied, “Hmm…I’m looking forward to that myself actually, but first things first.  I need an answer, so quit stalling.”  Folding his hands as if in prayer, Iruka quietly snapped, “And for heaven’s sake, please don’t insult my intelligence by lying to me.” 

A brief, heated spike in Iruka’s chakra let Kakashi know it was now or never. 

“What was the question again, and why is it so important that you know this all stuff?”

Hoping to stave off a headache, Iruka rubbed a pressure point on his neck; it was too little, too late.  “Kakashi, your answer is going to determine how or even if we proceed.  I’ve overheard you discuss sexual situations in very graphic detail in the mission room, and now you’re going to clam up because I asked how you felt when I spanked you?  Surely you don’t expect me to believe you’ve gotten shy in the last ten minutes?”

_No, but I’m sitting here trying to hide a hard on like a pubescent schoolboy with raging hormones and a crush on his teacher._

Given the option, Kakashi would rather yank out his fingernails with a pair of rusty pliers than discuss his ‘feelings’…about anything.  He’d spent the last few lonely days endlessly analyzing his disjointed thoughts, which lead to nothing but aggravation.  _Hell, I couldn’t figure out what happened myself and now he wants me to divulge my private anxieties?  It would be like trying to harness the power of a hurricane in a tin can…impossible!_

The slow, steady drumming of Iruka’s fingers on the table meant he better spit something out quickly to appease the man.  When a single bead of sweat dared creep down his back, he reluctantly offered, “For crap’s sake Iruka, swapping tall tales of a sexual nature with the boys is nothing more than mindless conversation, you know, to pass the time between missions.  There’s a degree of detachment involved, but what you’re asking for requires something I’m not…entirely comfortable with.”  _That’s my story and I’m sticking to it._  

To Kakashi’s way of thinking, showing or sharing his emotions was the equivalent of admitting weakness.  Minutes stretched between them, and his agitation grew.  Agitation transmuted into irritation, and at last, an emotion he didn’t mind acknowledging; rage.  He’d reached the point where he was incensed with Iruka for forcing him to confront his emotions and resentful because Iruka had no problem sharing his.  As if that weren’t enough, there was the annoying sexual frustration short-circuiting his thought process; each of these things in turn reared their ugly heads, demanding he give in to one or all of them. 

“You want the truth Iruka?” he sneered.  “It was a humiliating, exhilarating, and painfully erotic experience.  I wanted to rip your guts out and feed them to you and I wanted to screw you through your desk at the same time.  Is that honest enough for you?”

The smile forming on Iruka’s lips was positively lewd, yet the tone of his voice was clinical and exacting.  “I’m curious, how many times did you jerk off thinking about how I spanked you?  What did it for you?  Was it the words I said, or the sting of the hairbrush that got you hard?”

“Dammit Iruka,” his fist slammed down hard on the table, “Shut your filthy mouth!”

The inquisitive light in Iruka’s eyes dimmed with compassion, and warmth returned to his voice; “I’m sorry Kakashi; I didn’t mean to be so intrusive.  All right, let's come at this thing another way."

Carefully pushing the chair away from the table with his foot, Iruka rose from his seat all the better to cautiously straddle Kakashi’s powerful thighs, “Spanking is not something I do Kakashi, it’s a part of who I am.  And yes, I freely admit it’s an incredible turn on for me.  Mind you, I wasn't thinking along those lines in the mission room that day, but being aroused was a delightful, yet unintentional side-effect."  Iruka exhaled heavily, "If we're going to have a relationship Kakashi, it is imperative that we enter into it with our eyes open.  Spanking will be involved in the dynamic of the relationship, but it won't be the focal point.  I want to take the time to get to know you, and let you get to know me.”  After allowing Kakashi a time to digest that tidbit he added, “If you don’t believe you can handle that, tell me now, so we don’t waste each other’s time.”

It may have had something to do with Iruka’s proximity, or the welcome weight of his hands against his chest, but Kakashi couldn’t detect any traces of deception in either his voice or posture.  _Well that’s a first, somebody who wants to know me for who I am._   _Usually people want to get close to me long enough to see what I was hiding under the mask.  Others merely want to elevate their standing by being friends with Sharingan no Kakashi.  Iruka apparently isn’t impressed or obsessed with either of these things._

“Iruka, if I can’t accept this, do we go our separate ways and pretend this never happened, or would we maintain a friendship?”

“We’ll figure it out.  The main thing I want you to know is with any relationship, trust is a major factor.  If spanking is a part of that relationship, trust becomes an even greater issue."

That made sense to Kakashi, and he lifted his head to look at Iruka straight on as he continued, “Whether you realize it or not, you trusted me to discipline you and not severely injure you in the process.”  Leaning forward, his lips grazed Kakashi’s cheek. “A powerful man like you,” Iruka kissed his exposed cheek.  “Submitting yourself to me,” the other cheek received a kiss, “that was damned hot.”

Another kiss, this time to cloth covered lips.  “I was very impressed by how well you took your spanking.”  Kakashi settled back into the chair when Iruka said, “Watching your bottom pinken and then turn fiery red under my hand and the hairbrush as I held you across my knee…” 

Kakashi’s breath caught in his throat.

“Let’s just say,” Iruka breathed, “it made for some toe-curling orgasms every time I thought about it.”

He tilted Kakashi’s chin up. “Did you know, you’re actually the one in control of how long and how severe a spanking is?”  A pale eyebrow rose curiously.  “Do you remember when you told me you’d learned your lesson and I stopped?” 

Kakashi robotically nodded. 

“As I said, you’re ultimately in control, even though I’m disciplining you--don’t ever forget that.  One more thing in the interest of full disclosure, what I just said does not apply to those rare occasions when I have to punish you; those are the times when I’m in control.  I'll be happy to discuss the differences between discipline and punishment later, but I think you’ve got enough on your mind for the moment."

It was as if a weight lifted from Kakashi’s shoulders.  Feelings of weakness he’d grappled with for days, bubbled up, and evaporated like cold water on a hot stone. 

Cautiously, those neatly trimmed clean fingernails Kakashi previously ridiculed, sensuously scraped over Kakashi’s straining erection, eliciting a hungry rumble from his throat. 

“My, my you are a naughty boy aren’t’ you?”  Iruka scolded mildly.  “If I remember correctly, you’re also a big boy.  Let’s have a look to make sure my memory hasn’t failed me.”

Kakashi turned his head away reflexively; closing his eyes as Iruka slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.  He couldn’t bear to watch Iruka’s expressive face when he saw how hard he’d become just from his words.  _Will he tease me or turn away from me, repulsed_ _by my lack of self-control?_

“You’re very responsive Kakashi, I like that.” 

Deft fingers undid the last two buttons of his shirt, and a sudden realization hit him like a tsunami, clearing away all traces of self-loathing and doubt.  

The life of a shinobi is a life filled with expectations.  Everyone expected shinobi to honor their leader, protect the citizens of their village, and to train hard to keep their skills sharp.  Each time he fulfilled his obligations, the benchmark reset, and the cycle began afresh.  Over the years, he’d failed missions, lost comrades, and almost lost his sanity.  Nevertheless, he plodded ever onward, because that’s what was expected.  The need to have clearly drawn parameters of behavior and duty overlapped in his way of thinking.  People expected unmatched leadership, unparalleled skill, and undeniable dominance from him, on the battlefield and in the bedroom; that’s what he provided, because it was… expected. 

Iruka’s words of praise and unspoken promises of pleasure tapped into that area of his subconscious, which craved direction, and acknowledgement of his efforts.  However, Iruka’s expectations were different, hence the confusion he’d felt.  Iruka just wanted Kakashi, not the man of a thousand jutsu…just Kakashi. 

_What a hell of a time to figure this out!_

Unhooking his vest as he continued stroking, Iruka whispered, “Lift your hips Kakashi.”

Without hesitation, he grabbed Iruka’s wrist stuttering, “Iruka…I want…with you…”

Thank the heavens Iruka possessed the ability to comprehend what he couldn’t effectively articulate.  All too soon, that warm stroking hand disappeared, busied now with lowering Kakashi’s pants.  The cool plastic seat cover was like ice against his overheated skin, but he cared nothing for it.  Iruka straddled his lap again and when his hand embraced him this time, Kakashi felt Iruka’s hard cock pressing against his own. 

Reaching out to knead the muscles of Iruka's solid thighs, intense sensations threatened to overwhelm his reason; _damn_ , _I'm so close to having what I've wanted for the last few days._

“This is one of the many ways I reward my naughty boy,” he breathed.  “Can’t wait−to show you− some of the other ways.”  Iruka’s hand slowed to a maddening pace. “Your proper response should be, ‘Thank you sir.’  Can you say that for me Kakashi?”

His thighs trembling with neediness, his balls heavy and tight, Kakashi would had said anything just to find release.  "Iruka−I..."

A quick slap against the outside of his thigh shot another wave of pleasure through his groin.

“Wrong response Kakashi, try again.” 

“Thank−thank you--sir.”

“That’s my good boy.”  Iruka’s sure strokes increased in tempo drawing Kakashi closer to the brink of orgasm.  “I want to see your face when you cum.”

Kakashi froze.  He’d never before allowed anyone a glimpse behind his mask, yet Iruka’s words of praise overruled the desire to hide from this man.  His hands flew to the edges of the cloth, practically ripping it in half to remove this barricade between them.

Unadulterated lust in Iruka’s eyes amped up his desire and he slipped over the edge into an abyss of pleasure.  Iruka followed soon thereafter, his halting breaths cooling Kakashi’s skin before their lips pressed together. 

Iruka kissed him much the same way as he ate… slowly savoring each brush of their lips as if sampling an exotic delicacy.  His tongue gently intertwined with Kakashi’s and every time he hungrily sought more, Iruka’s teasing lips and tongue would retreat and later reward with a nip to an ear or along his jawline. 

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” Iruka finally laughed. 

"Not so fast," he grinned snaking his hands around to grab Iruka's tight little butt.  "Since you held my libido hostage earlier, it's your turn to answer a question truthfully.  What happens when you misbehave," he playfully slapped Iruka’s bottom.  "Do I get to spank you too?"

A quick kiss, a throaty chuckle, and a disappointed look from Iruka, “I’m afraid not Kakashi, you’re the one who needs behavior modification, not me.” 

“Sounds kinda unfair if you ask me,” he pouted.  “I know how to behave myself.”

“It’s a moot point Kakashi; I will correct bad behavior as the need arises.  The manner in which I discipline you will be of my choosing, and rest assured, I would never punish you on a whim.  We can work out the details and my ground rules over the next few days.  We’ll talk about safe words too,” Iruka, said with a smile, “Over time, we’ll expand your limits.  Now come on, let’s get a shower.”

“Safe words−limits?” 

\---000---

The last time he visited Iruka’s bathroom, Kakashi was the only one naked.  This time, his eyes feasted on the smooth breadth of brown skin and defined muscle as Iruka undressed.  His broad hairless back, rounded bottom, and thick legs begged Kakashi to touch, lick, and kiss; Iruka encouraged his explorations with small moans of pleasure. 

When Iruka reached up to loosen his hair tie, Kakashi paused to watch that thick, brown hair cascade onto broad shoulders.  The mental image of his pale fingers twining around those silky locks as his cock disappeared between Iruka’s lips elicited a predatory growl. 

"Water's going to get chilly if we don't get a move on Kakashi.”  Grasping Kakashi's wandering hands, Iruka lead him inside the shower stall.

Beginning at his ankles, Iruka gently laved him; the heady scent of sandalwood and Iruka’s firm touch, lulled Kakashi into a state of satisfied stupefaction.  Once Iruka reached his chest, Kakashi took the cloth from him, “My turn,” he smirked.

Turning Iruka by the shoulders to face the shower’s wall, he guided his arms and hands to brace against the slick surface.  Solid muscle twitched under Kakashi’s hands as he groped, kissed, and washed.  Iruka’s brawny back and firm bottom cheeks pressed tightly against his chest and groin as Kakashi reached downward to fondle Iruka’s balls and stroke his thick cock.  Soap slicked skin proved too much of a temptation; and as he shamelessly rutted against the valley of firm skin, low moans bounced around the shower stall.  From whose throat they came made no difference.  Just when his self-control was about to snap, Iruka bared his neck for him to ravage at will.  It was all he could do not to visibly mark him. 

Unfortunately, the rapidly waning water temperature ended bath time a little earlier than Kakashi wanted.  No matter, Iruka was naked and well within reach of his greedy hands. 

Once dried, they stumbled toward the bedroom, kissing and groping each other along the way.  Spread on his back faster than he could blink, Iruka sprawled across him. His sharp teeth and soft lips attacked the sensitive skin of his neck, lips and earlobes, whispering promises of further reward.

 “You were thinking about my lips wrapped around your cock earlier,” Iruka muttered against a collarbone.  “Let’s see how well reality matches your imagination.” 

Iruka rummaged under the pillow for something, but Kakashi’s only focus was on the hardness pressing against his belly.

Leaving a trail of hot kisses down his chest and stomach, Iruka torturously made his way to Kakashi’s balls quite deliberately avoiding his cock, which not so subtly demanded attention.  Gently suckling each fleshy nugget into his mouth, Iruka’s hands ran over Kakashi’s thighs easing the building tension while holding him in place.

With a final long, slow lick, Iruka’s lips edged toward his cock and Kakashi rose up on his elbows to watch.  Thick fingers wrapped around him as he kissed his way upward and at last, Kakashi ran his fingers through Iruka’s hair, grunting his appreciation every inch of the way.  His warm tongue circled the head of his cock before slipping into the crevasse, lazily lapping up the salty pooling pre-come, before soft lips wrapped around him.  Kakashi leaned back against the pillow when Iruka’s wet mouth began its slow descent and a slick finger sought permission to enter beyond the tight ring of muscle. 

Propping the pillow behind him slightly, Kakashi opened both eyes.   _I don’t care how much chakra it’s going to burn through, I have to record this with the Sharingan_.  Iruka greedily swallowed him completely while his finger pressed forward.  The breach stung a bit, but Kakashi remained intently fixated on what Iruka was doing with his mouth.  He scarcely noticed when the second and third fingers slipped inside, what with Iruka’s forehead pressed against his groin.  Iruka’s other arm draped across Kakashi’s hipbone just in time to keep him from bucking upward as crooked fingers teased his prostate.

“Iruka−Iruka…”  Kakashi panted.  “I’m really close …”

Releasing him from that soft, wet prison, Iruka somehow managed to say, "That's good…I want to you to cum Kakashi, but not now."  Iruka stroked his unbearably hard cock, "I need to be deep inside you when you cum.”  Slowly Iruka kissed his way toward Kakashi's ears, "Let me show you another way I choose to reward my naughty boy."

In all his previous encounters with men, Kakashi never allowed anyone to top him, and now he couldn’t fathom why he’d denied himself the pleasure.  Pale fingers dug into Iruka’s arms when the final barrier to gratification was slowly breached; insistent deep kisses distracted his thoughts from the stinging sensation.  Kakashi surprised himself when his hips pushed up of their own free will, urging Iruka to move.

Iruka was an infuriatingly patient, thorough, and gentle lover.  Several times he restrained Kakashi’s fervor with a gentle rebuke.  “All in good time, Kakashi,” he murmured against his ear.

“I can take it Iruka,” he insisted.

“Hush now−I don’t want you to ‘take it’, I want you to relax and enjoy.”

True to his word, Iruka took his sweet time, kissing him, licking, and sucking his sensitive nipples; light touches, here and there, intensified the slow steady advance to release.  When finally Iruka dealt his prostate a glancing swipe, Kakashi didn’t see stars; it was more like an entire constellation flashed before his eyes.

Iruka suddenly shifted, drawing the back of Kakashi’s knees over his forearms. From that moment onward, every sharp deep thrust set his nerve endings on fire.  Kakashi squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating and fearing the moment he would slip over the edge. The sound of sweat glistened bodies rapidly disconnecting and reconnecting, the wet rhythmic slap of Iruka’s balls slamming against him, and Iruka’s contented moans melded into a symphony of pre-orgasmic white noise. 

From the depths of his being came a shout of surrender; hot spurts of cum spritzed across his chest and chin.  Just a few more deep thrusts and Iruka released his legs, collapsing on top of him, his own rapid breaths trapped between the side of Kakashi’s neck and the pillow. 

“Well done Kakashi…very well done.”

Words refused to move past Kakashi’s dry lips.  His last coherent thought before sleep overtook him was:

_Damn!  Expectations… reality sure kicked your pathetic ass!_


	5. The Learning Curve Part One

 

 

Much thanks to my awesome beta WeepingCadaver.  You made the nonsensical make sense.

* * *

Dawn’s early light innocuously slithered through tightly drawn blinds with a stealth honed over eons.  Muted pink-fingered rays crept along floorboards and over the sleep-rumpled comforter, brutishly prodding Kakashi from sleep.  His bones were the consistency of gently melting butter, and his uncooperative lower limbs held captive by an unseen, yet decidedly friendly force.  The persistent dull ache in his lower back confirmed last night wasn’t a figment of his overactive imagination, provoking a satisfied grin.  Closing his eye tighter when he turned his back on the insistent illumination, silky brown hair tickled and tangled itself along his stubbly chin.

Smoothly disentangling their legs so as not to fully awaken his bedmate, he nudged Iruka onto his back, pulling away the covers to reveal the rise and fall of a powerfully built, sun-kissed chest.  A firmer tug of the sheets and the smooth planes of a tawny abdomen exposed itself to Kakashi’s appreciative eye.  Maneuvering himself between Iruka’s strong thighs, he buried his nose into the wiry patch of brown hair, inhaling deeply. 

Iruka smelled of sandalwood and sex, a potent combination that aroused more than his olfactory senses. 

Soon, his teasing lips and warm darting tongue would elicit an approving groan from the drowsy man beneath him.  The heels of Iruka’s palms brushed over his ears, and thick fingers entwined in silvery strands.

A shudder, when Kakashi’s hand wrapped around Iruka’s stirring girth, a deeper tremor when his tongue drew lazy circles around the crown; finally, a small gasp of pleasured surprise when Kakashi flattened his tongue and sucked hard.  Slowly, torturously, Kakashi’s hand made room for his talented mouth, until only his right index finger and thumb encircled the root of Iruka’s thick cock. 

Iruka’s fingers no longer ran through his hair in gentle caresses, instead they flexed pulling Kakashi closer, while Iruka pushed deeper.  A spasm rippled through Iruka’s thighs and Kakashi’s fingers tightened.   _All in good time Iruka, you taught me that._  Inch by inch Kakashi retreated, to begin afresh, intent only on increasing Iruka’s eventual satisfaction.  As his lips ascended, the palm of his hand followed…slow, steady strokes; with each teasing variance to his rhythm, Iruka’s respirations went from deliberate shallow breaths to shameless, lusty panting. 

Without warning, Kakashi loosened those encouraging fingers tangled in his hair, slamming Iruka’s wrists against the mattress.  Keeping his head still, his tongue flat, he hollowed his cheeks once more, as Iruka’s hips jerked upward repeatedly, hurtling toward fulfillment.

The sudden warmth of Iruka’s orgasm tingled against the back of his throat and tiny trickles of release escaped the corners of his lips.  When Kakashi lifted his eyes, he expected to see a sated Iruka slumped against the pillows.  Instead, Iruka’s wrists slid free of their fleshy restraints and he quick scooted backward using the pillows to support himself. 

“Very well done Kakashi; come closer and kneel between my legs,” he bade.  “I’d like to watch my naughty boy pleasure himself.” 

Had these words come from anyone else, Kakashi might have doubled over in laughter.  Coming from Iruka, they stoked the fires of need in his mind and then… his body.  The command, sensual and base; a command nonetheless, banished traces of self-consciousness.  His hand obeyed, hesitant yet emboldened, slowly wrapping around his neglected shaft.  An act so private, performed by permission before an appreciative audience…his eye slid closed.

Iruka’s voice smoldered, “No, I want you to look at me while you pleasure yourself… that’s right, just like that.”  Brown eyes clouded by lust locked onto his, “Allowing you to pleasure yourself gives me pleasure.  In time you will learn this is a privilege reserved for my enjoyment and my eyes only.”

_Sweet Kami, if he doesn’t shut up I’m going to embarrass myself._

“That’s it…you’re so hard and so close, aren’t you?”

 “Getting closer the more you talk.”

“I want to lap up the cum that spills over the back of your hand and lick away each drop from your fingers.  Would you like that?”

“Very much,” he raggedly breathed.

“Then… you have my permission... cum for me Kakashi.”

Kakashi’s eye never left Iruka’s intense gaze as hot, thick pulses of a belated release obediently spilled over his knuckles.  Warm breath, soft lips, and a rough tongue pressed against his juddering hand, gently eradicating the salty evidence of his release.  Decadent groans pervaded the stillness of the room as soft lips suckled each of his fingers into a very delighted warm mouth.  This time Kakashi had to disobey a direct order… his eye slid shut in pleasure. 

Warm hands pulled him downward and his knees gave way of their own accord. Lying chest to chest with Iruka, a cool pillowcase against his cheek and smooth fingertips tracing random patterns along his back, made staying awake difficult.  Teetering on the brink of alertness, the soft rumbles of laughter from the man beneath him interrupted a light snooze.

“You know, I usually prefer a cup of hot coffee to start my day.  But your way definitely has its perks Kakashi.”

“Give me a few minutes,” came the sleepy mutter, “and I’ll show you how perky I can be.”

Iruka playfully poked him in the side, “Tempting, but I can’t pull off the ‘Got lost on the path of life’ bit as well as you do.”  A small thrust of his hips grabbed Kakashi’s attention.  “Hey sleepyhead, what’s on your agenda for today?”

Sluggishly rolling onto his side, he considered and then discounted seven different ways to keep Iruka in bed.  _Chakra wire was out of the question and flattery wouldn’t cut it either. Ah, what the hell, I might as well make him laugh._   “I’ve got rather tight schedule myself,” he quipped.  “Get some training done, avoid Gai, and scandalize the villagers by reading my porn in broad daylight.” 

Iruka cozied over to share his pillow.  “Wow, my day sounds like stroll in the park compared to yours.”  Rubbing his stubbled chin against Kakashi’s he breathed, “In forty-five minutes I have to attend a mind numbing instructor’s meeting about next semester’s curriculum.” Fingernails skipped along the the fine hairs on Kakashi’s thigh, “My morning gets better when I have to drill a boring history lesson into the heads of thirty hyperactive kids.”  His sturdy fingers lightly grazed over ticklish ribs before settling on Kakashi’s hip.  “And the highlight of my day comes when I have to proctor a midterm exam.”

A low whistle came from Kakashi’s lips. “Almost makes me wish I was back in school.”

Running his hand down to rest at the junction of Kakashi’s smooth bottom and the top of his thigh, Iruka chuckled, “I’d never get any work done with a troublemaker like you in my class.”  A playful swat and Kakashi tensed.  “Darn, I almost forgot.  I volunteered to tutor a student over this weekend.”

 _Ain’t that a blip!  I can’t believe he’s choosing one of his little snot monsters over me!_  “What the hell possessed you to schedule something like that?”

The pout in his voice was almost enough to make Iruka drop the charade.  He kissed the tip of his nose instead. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist this particular task.  From what I understand, this young man is very talented in the shinobi arts.  It’s the administrative stuff bores him stiff.  As a result, he acts out and people let him get away with that because he’s gifted; you know the type.  He just needs proper guidance to reach his true potential.” 

 _Well aren’t you the venerable Iruka-sensei?  Wasting time tutoring orphaned kids and some stuck up wild child when you could be spending time in bed with me._   “Yeah, my heart bleeds for this kid.”  Iruka was not his sole possession ... yet and how he chose to spend his free time was his business.   Still, a sliver of exasperation seeped into his voice.  “Can’t you do this stuff during the week?”

A strangled yawn hid Iruka’s chuckle.   “I’m afraid not, unavoidable scheduling conflict.  He’s got field survival exercises starting soon, and I'm stuck in the mission room after classes next week.”

“Who is this character Iruka?  Maybe I should have a conversation with him, you know, convince him pull his head out of his butt.”

Reaching toward the nightstand to shut off his alarm, Iruka reluctantly pulled away from Kakashi’s warmth.  “Thanks just the same, but I have my own methods of persuasion.  Actually, this is more an ambush than scheduled training.  If he knew what I had planned, he’d come up with some fantastical excuse to wriggle out of it.”

“This nimrod sounds like a piece of work, Iruka.”

“He’s actually very intelligent, and I’m looking forward to seeing the expression on his face when I share my training outline with him.”  Iruka indulged in a final languid stretch before levering himself upright.   “Well, if I don’t get moving soon, I never get my lesson plan finished.  You know, I probably could use your help to implement my plan.  If your busy schedule permits, think you could meet me at the Academy around four o’clock?”

“Iruka, if this screw-up can’t master the basics you’re teaching him, how can you expect he’d learn more advanced things from me?”

“Call it a hunch,” he smiled.  “I really have to get going lazybones.  Wanna take a shower with me?”

Taking most of the covers with him when he rolled onto his stomach, Kakashi grumped, “Working you up into a hot lather would definitely make me happy, and make you late.  I’d better keep us both out of trouble and snag a few more winks. Who knew being your personal wakeup call could be so pleasantly exhausting?”

Iruka pressed himself against his broad back.  “Stay as long as you like and help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.  That reminds me, I’ve got to stop by the market on my way on home. Don’t forget, Academy at four o’clock.”

\---000---

 

 The sound of Iruka locking the front door roused him from his catnap.  _I haven’t been this well rested and content in a long time; feels kinda weird._ Muscles accustomed to a rigorous daily training routine, would not allow him to enjoy this newfound sense of fulfillment for much longer.  Neither would his loudly pinging conscience.  “ **You know you can’t hang around this guy for too long, he’ll make you soft.**   **_You’ve had your fun, now let’s get outta here.”_**

Surrounded by Iruka’s belongings and the lingering scent of sex, acute roiling waves of claustrophobia suddenly splashed against the pit of his stomach.  _Yeah, something is off about this whole situation, but I can’t put my finger on it._

From the sun’s angle, he reckoned it well past the time when he could visit the memorial stone undisturbed, yet early enough for the ANBU training grounds to be deserted.  Perfect, for what he needed was time and plenty of space to brood.  Within three minutes flat, he was dressed and out the door.

Under normal circumstances, the mild winds whistling through the leaves of his favorite ‘Do Not Disturb’ tree and the mingled fragrances of tall green grasses provided an atmosphere suited for deep thoughts.  Not so today.  Instead of idly resting in the bough of the tree, as was his habit, he irritably paced along its limbs. 

_No matter how many ways I look at this thing, it just doesn’t add up.  From what I know of him thus far, Iruka’s too organized -- too concerned about those kids of his to ‘forget’ something that important.  And it’s damned ironic how this ‘unavoidable scheduling conflict’ coincides with my last few days of leave.  That’s the other thing, what could I possibly do to ‘help implement’ this training regimen?  Was Iruka looking for a bodyguard--or a chaperone?_

Flashing through the signs of a summoning jutsu, Kakashi thought it wise to get another perspective on this puzzle.  When the chakra smoke cleared, a raspy voice boomed near his ankle, “What you got for me, Kakashi?”

“A mission that requires absolute secrecy and stealth; it’s a short-term surveillance and information gathering operation.”

“Sure thing Boss, you can count on me.  Mind if I stand downwind while you give me the particulars, I mean, nothing personal but you reek.”  Pointedly sniffing around Kakashi’s legs, Pakkun turned up his nose and grunted. “What the heck have you been rolling around in?  You stink like aromatic oils and pheromones – what are you, in heat or something?”

 _I should have summoned Bisuke; less back sass with that one._   “You know, it’s never a good idea to speak crudely to someone who supplies you with fresh meat, Pakkun. Listen tight, the only thing you have to do is …” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you want me to track the guy you were fighting with right?  That shouldn’t be a problem because you’re wearing some other masculine scent as if you took a bath in it.” 

 _I gotta stop letting him read ‘Make Out Paradise’ over my shoulder_.  Kakashi shook his head with a sigh. “I wasn’t fighting with anybody, Pakkun.  The person I want you to keep tabs on works at the Academy; I just need to know what he’s up to this afternoon.”

“Hang on a minute,” came the gruff chuckle, “Are you telling me some chunnin kicked your butt?  Oh man, wait ‘til I tell the rest of the pack about this -- you’ll never hear the end of it Boss.”

“Just keep your trap shut and do your job nosy mutt.  Meet me no later than three o’clock at the usual training grounds.”

\---000---

Running through katas was supposed to focus his mind, but after an hour or so, random thoughts of his last conversation with Iruka shattered his concentration.  _I’m not going to be able to relax completely until I figure out what he’s up to.  If I’ve blown this thing out of proportion, we’ll get a good laugh out of this, but if I haven’t--_

Taking the long route from the training grounds to calm down turned out to be an exercise in futility.  By the time he reached the village gates, Kakashi had talked himself into quite an impressive fit of rage.  _Maybe I’m too paranoid for my own good, but I know Iruka’s hiding something._

As he strolled through the village, hardly anyone paid attention to him, the ‘ **don’t mess with me or I’ll kill ya’** vibe probably had something to do with that.  There’s n _o telling what might greet me at the Academy, and being that close to the Hokage tower, the old bat might haul me in for a ‘last-minute’ mission.  I’ll take that chance, because I need to know what’s going on._

_\---000---_

The frenetic, happy shouts of children at play floated upward and over the Academy’s roof as Kakashi uncomfortably crouched against a ventilation unit.  His unsuspecting target sat beneath a sprawling oak tree, casually enjoying lunch with a trio of talking, laughing youngsters.  _How he puts up with that racket day in and day out, I’ll never know._  

Pakkun appeared beside him in an instant.  “If you’re here to beat him up and take his lunch money, you’re a little late Boss.”

“Just give me an update on his activity, ya smarmy little fleabag.”

A jaw popping yawn and a blank look were the only things Pakkun was willing to provide.  _Call me a fleabag will ya?_ “Here’s the deal Kakashi, this is one of the most boring assignments you’ve ever given me.  The man’s a teacher for cripe’s sake!  If he’s not lecturing his class or standing at the blackboard, he’s sitting at his desk.”  Stepping closer to the roof’s edge, he murmured, “The kids seem to like him, so he can’t be that bad; how’d you manage to piss him off enough to fight you anyway?”

“You can go now, Pakkun, I’ll take it from here.  And for the last time, we weren’t fighting.”

“Yeah, then why does he smell exactly like you?” 

He’d traumatize the little dog with a detailed explanation of his exploits later, for now he needed to satisfy his curiosity.  Masking his chakra, Kakashi took up Pakkun’s abandoned hiding place among the branches of the oak tree as another instructor joined Iruka and the kids.  Whoever this character was, he planted himself a little too close to Iruka for Kakashi’s comfort. 

“How’s it going, Iruka-sensei?  Sorry to interrupt your lunch,” the unknown chunnin said, “but I need your assistance.  You see, all the pre-genin instructors are planning to dismiss their classes early today, and we hoped you’d do the same.  What do you say, Iruka-sensei, can we count you in?”

Apparently, the prospect of getting a jump on the weekend was enough to quiet the kids surrounding him; six beady little eyes turned to their instructor, hoping he’d agree.  Iruka smiled brightly, “I’d considered that, Kisho-sensei.  Seeing as I have another lesson plan to finish up anyway, a few hours of peace and quiet will be a tremendous help.”

“Seriously, another lesson plan, Iruka?  Dude, you’re hard-core,” Kisho teased.  “Come on man, you gotta learn how to relax and enjoy life.”

Kakashi couldn’t have said it better himself.  _Maybe this knucklehead could talk some sense into the other knucklehead._

“When you enjoy what you do, it’s no longer work,” Iruka grinned, “or so I’ve heard it said.  I’m putting together a unique lesson for an exceptional student, so trust me, Kisho-sensei; I intend to enjoy myself thoroughly this weekend.”

\---000---

After two long hours hunkered down in a tree, Kakashi knew he owed his summon an apology.  _This was boring as hell!  I can’t believe he’s been sitting there writing since his class left.  Hope that birdbrain he’s tutoring appreciates the effort he’s putting into this._

 _Ah well, time to make my appearance._ Deciding it best to teleport directly to the Academy’s front entrance, _wouldn’t want to_ _startle the man_ , Kakashi hiked up three floors to Iruka’s deserted classroom.  When he peered inside, Iruka had his back to him, packing away supplies, or so he assumed.

“Hope I’m not interrupting, Iruka-sensei,” he said looking around the classroom.  “It seems your student hasn’t shown up yet -- how inconsiderate.”

Iruka turned about quickly with a warm, surprised smile.  “Will wonders never cease?  You’re actually early, Kakashi, I’m impressed.”  Iruka continued to clear his desk adding, “As for my student, don’t worry, he’ll turn up on my doorstep soon enough.”

 _What, he’s coming to the house?_ “Iruka, don’t you think that’s going beyond the bounds of …”

“For this one, I’ll happily make an exception,” Iruka calmly replied.  “This won’t take long.  He’s quick on the uptake.”

_Hmm, this kid’s already a pain in my ass.  It was bad enough knowing Iruka would be spending time at the Academy with this dolt, but now I have to compete for Iruka’s attention on his home turf._

“In the meantime, I need to get to the market, and pick up a few things for dinner.  Why don’t you tag along, Kakashi?  I’m sure the exercise will help work out the kinks in your back and legs.  After all, sitting in a tree for the past few hours can’t have been that comfortable.”

“Heh,” he laughed rubbing the back of his neck, “Ah, so you did notice!  I was testing your umm, situational awareness skills and I’m pleased to report you passed with flying colors!”

Iruka’s rich laugh filled the space, “It’s a wonder your eye isn’t brown, Kakashi ‘cause you’re so full of crap.”

\---000---

Friday evening in the marketplace was definitely not for the faint of heart.  Shoppers haggled for the best prices, vendors loudly proclaimed their goods were the freshest and best, and every stall was packed.  As the surging mass of humanity surrounded them, Iruka was clearly in his element, Kakashi on the other hand was clearly annoyed.

He tried to slip away several times, and each time Iruka pulled him to his side, asking his preferences about this or that item of produce or meat.  By the time they got back Iruka’s apartment laden down with purchases, Kakashi was exhausted. 

“Why don’t you relax in the living room while I put away the groceries and make some tea?”

He didn’t need to hear that particular command twice.  Stretching himself along the length of the sofa as Iruka rattled around, an overwhelming sense of disappointment snuggled up beside him.  _If this kid shows up now, the only thing Iruka will need to teach him is how to bind up his own wounds._

“Tea’s ready,” Iruka called.  “I want you to look over something before we head out to the toy store.  You don’t mind do you?”

“Are you kidding me Iruka, a toy store?  Don’t tell me bribery is your primary means of persuasion?”

Sitting at the kitchen table grinning deviously, Iruka looked up when Kakashi entered, “Bribery is such an ugly word, Kakashi.  A trip to the toy store is the way I provide incentive for good behavior.”  _I’ll never understand why he cares so much about these juvenile delinquents._

Lying beside his mug of tea looking innocent was a small, ornately detailed scroll.  He couldn’t pretend he didn’t see it, and it never to hurt to ask. Rolling it closer to Iruka he wondered aloud.  “What’s this thing?”

“Oh, that’s the training outline I told you about earlier.”  His crooked grin made Kakashi suspicious.  “I’ve never done anything like this before, and I’d value your opinion.  Would you mind looking it over and telling me what you think?”

That gnawing sensation that something was amiss vigorously bludgeoned Kakashi about the head and shoulders; he chose to ignore it.  _It’s a training outline, what’s the big deal?_

Wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, he ran his thumbnail under the scroll’s seal.  Iruka didn’t give him the chance to even read the first character of text.  A tanned hand laid over his:

 “Class is now in session, Kakashi… you’re the student I was waiting for.”

 

“What?”

 

TBC

 

NOTE:

The name Kisho means: “one who knows his own mind.”


	6. The Learning Curve Part Two

 

 Couldn't have done it without you WeepingCadaver.  Can't believe I forgot to look 'behind the underneath'.

 

* * *

 

Despite persistent rumors of his moody, humorless, and sociopathic tendencies, Kakashi could take a joke as well as the next guy. 

Obviously, the scroll in his hands was Iruka’s far-fetched idea of a joke; a well thought out, elaborately staged…joke.  _If it isn’t, then I may have to drag him with me to my next psych evaluation._ Having watched Iruka put so much time and effort into this thing, he felt it only right to play along.  Besides, he was curious to see how far and in what direction this absurd stunt would go.

When he scanned the concisely worded rows of text the second time, his opinion moderately wavered.  _I have to give him some credit.  The web of deception he’s used to grab me by the short and curlies is pretty ingenious…for a chunnin._

This time however, when he felt the prickle of uncertainty poking around, he paid attention to it.  Even though the information in the scroll was mildly provocative, he couldn’t help thinking he’d seen this format before.  _Wait a minute, this thing reads like a mission assignment!_

Indeed, there was a clearly defined objective, a deployment date as well as a sliding scale of remuneration for completing particular aspects of the job.  Conspicuous by its absence however, was the mission’s projected termination date. 

Hell, even the greenest genin understood that whenever a scroll passed from the hands of a duly authorized central dispatch worker, it was as if the Hokage issued a direct order.  Refusal of a mission simply because the shinobi did not agree with it, was not only a supreme insult to the leader of their village, it heaped shame on the one who refused.  _Iruka wouldn’t use my sense of duty against me for something like this, would he?  What a conniving bastard!  He knew damn well what my reaction would be if he presented it this way._

Suspicion overruled curiosity after the third careful reading.  Whatever feelings of want or need he had for Iruka eroded away as resentment slithered up from his gut, solidifying itself into **O-yoroi** around him. 

_Hatake Kakashi knuckles under for no one._

_\---000---_

Smiling into his favorite mug, Iruka carefully assessed and cataloged every movement of Kakashi’s eye as it scanned the words he’d penned; outfoxing Hatake Kakashi was a feat few accomplished handily, and Iruka was smart enough to understand this triumph was fleeting.  Each time the scroll systematically looped over his left hand, Iruka could hear the gears grinding in Kakashi’s mind.  There were flashes of puzzlement, a lusty chuckle or two, but mostly wide-eyed shock. 

Through it all, the erratic ebb and flow of chakra beside him telegraphed Kakashi’s growing unease and more telling, his dangerous indecisiveness.  Realizing Kakashi would rail against anything perceived as a threat to his personal liberty, Iruka prepared himself for the eventual explosion of rage he felt building inside the man sitting beside him. 

_He’s either going to laugh in my face or crush my windpipe beneath his foot with equally sadistic glee._

A shifty glance preceded the low, unassuming rumble of laughter, “You’ve got more salt than a box of soda crackers Iruka.”  The unfurled scroll trembled as his gloved hands tentatively held it, “You even managed to spell everything out for me as if I were some kind of idiot.  That was damned insulting by the way.” 

When the scroll was suddenly dropped on the table, Iruka knew he had scant seconds to act decisively or he’d be staring at an empty chair.  There wasn’t time to filter his words politely.  “Adults talk through difficult situations,” he said.  “Children storm off in a huff when they can’t get their way.”

An antagonistic grunt and a malicious glower were the only things Iruka could hear and see through the aura of hostility surrounding Kakashi. 

Behind that icy facade, Kakashi was engaged in an intense battle with raw desire.  The desire to break free from the haunting power of carefully written and spoken words warred against the desire to remain, to see things to their logical and not too bloody culmination.

Slowly rising from his seat, Kakashi traversed the cool linoleum floor like a caged panther…sleek and deadly.  Sarcasm dripped from his voice, as lazily as stolen honey from a wrathful hive disturbed by a hungry bear’s claw.  “Umino Iruka,” he dryly intoned, “a trifling, proficient bureaucrat down to your marrow.”  Locking his hands together behind him, he continued an aimless trek around the kitchen.  “Shall I sign this fiat now,” he sniped, “or should we wait for the notary and two witnesses required by law?”

His own irritation barely concealed, Iruka snapped, “You’re making this more complicated than necessary Kakashi.  I meant our conversation this morning to be a harmless teaser, something to titillate your mind while we were apart today.  Had I but known you were incapable of seeing through something this transparent, I would have…”

Kakashi closed the distance between them in less than a heartbeat, slapping the mug from Iruka’s hand.  Slightly stunned, Iruka refused to react when it loudly splintered into an avalanche of blue green shards against the cupboard’s whitewashed surface.  When his chair crazily spun away from the table with controlled force, Iruka squarely faced the surly man with a scowl of his own. 

With his palms resting on the chair’s high back, and powerful arms acting like a barrier on either side of his shoulders, Kakashi leaned in close enough to kiss.  “Let’s be clear about one thing, Iruka.  I thoroughly enjoyed it when you jerked me off, but I sure as hell won’t tolerate being jerked around by the likes of you.”

His infamous temper simmered, but unshakable common sense prevailed.  _If this situation disintegrates into a physical altercation, I don’t stand a chance against him.  But with his thoughts clouded by rage, the only weapon I’ll need is a sharp tongue armed with the truth._

“Cut the crap, Kakashi!  You’ve finally come up against someone who won’t give you any loopholes to exploit and it galls the hell out of you, doesn’t it?  Silly me, here I thought you might enjoy a challenge, but I guess I was mistaken--”

“Yeah,” was Kakashi’s menacingly whispered reply, “I do enjoy a challenge, in fact, I get off on that sort of thing.”  Hot breath spiked with jasmine tea ruffled his Iruka’s eyelashes when he added, “I don’t take kindly to crass manipulation.”

When his fingers tightened on the chair’s frame, Iruka’s voice clenched around his next words, “Neither do I.”  Intimidation tactics like these only strengthened his determination.  “There’s no need for me to manipulate you, because you’re doing an outstanding job of it all by yourself.”

Considering how slowly the silvery eyebrow raised, Iruka figured he had a few minutes more left to breathe; he refused to waste them.  “So, is this your modus operandi?  You talk yourself into an unsustainable situation, so you can walk away from it, all the while justifying your inaction as righteous.”

Warm fingertips brushed over Iruka’s collarbone and slender fingers snaked around the back of his neck.  “And you Iruka, is defying death something else that gets you off you twisted bastard?”

Discounting both the question and the pressure of Kakashi’s thumb over his Adam’s apple, Iruka’s voice was clear and strong, “Since you’re determined to leave anyway, let me give you this to chew as you slink away.  Being around me makes you feel things and question motives, and desires you thought you’d pressed down and safely locked away.  That’s what pisses you off and it intrigues you too.  Face it Kakashi, you’re afraid.”

A tremor shot through him like a lightning bolt and his murderous fury ceased before gaining momentum.  Releasing his prey from confinement with a smirk and a shove, Kakashi snorted, “Afraid, of what…you?  You think much too highly of yourself, Iruka.”  In the span of a blink, he sauntered off to the front of the apartment to wearily flop down on the couch.

Only a few paces behind the quietly fuming man, Iruka settled into the overstuffed chair facing the couch.  “I told you I wanted to go over some ground rules with you, so I laid them out in a way you’d be less likely to dismiss.” His forearms rested on his thighs; tired hands hung between them.  “Look, if this thing is going to work between us, you’ll have to trust me.” 

The lazy sprawl belied Kakashi’s trip wire tense musculature, ready to pounce without further provocation.  “Someday you’ll have to teach me how to talk out both sides of my mouth as easily as you.  Until then, blow it out your ass, Iruka.  Do you seriously expect me to trust you after you’ve lied and set me up?”

“For Kami’s sake, Kakashi,” came the tired sigh, “How was I to know you’d over think something so simple?” 

Once more silence smothered the very air they breathed. 

It took a while for Kakashi to cool off.  _This guy is a taking a hacksaw to my last nerve, but I can’t leave until I get this off my chest._ “Based on what I read a few minutes ago, you come across as some kinda benevolent dictator, while I’m painted as your boot-licking lackey.  You’re absolutely right, Iruka, this isn’t gonna work.”

Allowing the soft material of the chair’s cushion to envelop him, Iruka drew a heavy breath.  “Fine, there’s nothing holding you here Kakashi.”

Slipping off the couch with enviable ease,  with his hands firmly jammed into his pockets,  he meandered toward the exit.  Chucking the crumpled sleep pants he’d carried around for days in Iruka’s direction, he snapped, “I believe these belong to you.”  Had he looked at Iruka now, he wouldn’t have been able to take another step.  “It’s been interesting.  See ya around, Iruka-sensei.”

Iruka made no attempt to stop him _.  Damn right,_ Iruka he thought _, it has been interesting.  The fight might be over for now, but the battle's about to begin._   With a sidelong look toward the man sitting in his genkan, he strode off in the opposite direction. 

\---000---

Though it stood fifteen inches from him, the portal to freedom, the path of return to his normal life seemed miles away.  A moment ago, anger’s cloak swaddled him like a second skin; now it lay tattered and shriveled at his sandaled feet.  _How is this man able to simultaneously infuriate and inflame my thoughts, actions and desires?_

The analytical side of Kakashi’s brain screamed for him to cut his losses, to drop any regrets about Iruka like a bad habit.  Pathetic grumblings from his emaciated emotions were batted away like annoying insects.  Cold, hard reason had always been his faithful companion, never failing to point him in the right direction.

And so he rose, decision made. 

A cool evening breeze ruffled his hair, and the heavy door rattled against its frame when it slammed shut. 

He knew he’d made the right choice.

 

\---000---

As Iruka stooped down to sweep away the sad bits of his favorite mug, he heard the front door slam with an air of finality.  _Seems fitting; he walked into and now out of my life with thinly veiled threats and a great deal of noise._ And over the clatter of porcelain sliding into the garbage bin Iruka wondered, _how long will it take me to banish that particular bad habit of his?_

Cleanup was always quicker when his mind was otherwise engaged and order was soon restored to his kitchen.  _Once I take care of this mess, I think I’ll call it a night._ As the corners of his dry sponge sopped up the dribbles of tea on the table’s surface, a lanky shadow cast itself over the place where the scroll rested earlier.  Leaning against the door's frame was Kakashi, looking defiant as ever as he blocked the kitchen’s only exit.  His drawl was complacent when he lobbed one source of his frustration toward the other one. 

“I’ve never walked away from a mission in my life, Iruka. I’ll be damned if I walk away from this one.”

Iruka allowed the rolled parchment to zip past him as he coolly crossed his arms over his chest.  “A relationship isn’t a mission Kakashi.”  Turning away from the vexatious man, he sidestepped the damnable parchment on his way to the sink.

In the uncomfortably hushed atmosphere, the scroll lay there like an undetonated paper bomb.  To Kakashi, it represented a forfeiture of the persona he’d painstakingly cultivated long before his run-in with Iruka.  To Iruka, it was a symbol of order, a code of conduct to uphold, and a statement of his unswerving commitment.

Resting his hands on the cool aluminum sink, Iruka offered, “Perhaps this was too much, too soon Kakashi; I apologize.  I won’t waste any more time pursuing something that inflicts such turmoil.  Either way we leave it tonight, I won’t hold a grudge, nor will I conduct myself toward you in a manner you might view as disrespectful.”

He didn’t know what to expect with Kakashi’s return.  He did know that he wasn’t up for another go round of bickering.  “The choice is yours” he said.  “You can do an about face and leave with no hard feelings or you can take a seat and we can discuss this like adults.”  The hot water rushing over his hands, called to mind Kakashi’s earlier heated accusation, “Just so there’s no misunderstanding, this isn’t manipulation, it’s called, arbitration.”

He felt Kakashi’s presence draw near and then retreat as he busied himself with setting a kettle on to boil.  It could have been the squeak of the cupboard opening as he searched for a fresh tin of tea, but it wasn’t.  That was the sound of chair legs sliding over linoleum. 

The calming aromas of spearmint, lemongrass, and chamomile permeated the kitchen, easing the tension in the room as they prepared to negotiate.  “I trust you’ve already retrieved the scroll Kakashi.  If you’d kindly spread it out, we can begin.”  Setting a heavy tray filled with mugs, a teapot and some sweets in the center of the table, Iruka asked, “Since I’ve already done enough talking for the both of us, mind telling me why you came back?”

His head lowered, and his hands clasped before reluctant lips, Kakashi murmured, “I never left the apartment.  Slamming the front door was my way of getting rid of some surplus exasperation.”  When he reached up to run a hand through his hair, Iruka heard him quietly confess, “I came back because I enjoy my reputation as an enigma.  Having some smart-ass chunnin come close to figuring me was troublesome.”  Settling into his seat he added, “Pride won’t allow me to have you walking around the village looking smug, so I’m gonna stick close by; make sure you don’t inadvertently divulge any of my secrets.”

Iruka studied him carefully, as one would any beautiful, yet injured wild animal.  He knew this was as near as Kakashi dared come to a formal apology.  “I wish I could take all the credit for figuring you out, but I can’t.  I work with hotheaded youngsters armed with blunted weapons every day, and whiny homicidal jounin with sharp weapons every night; I know a temper tantrum when one’s thrown at me.” 

The awkward joke coaxed a chuckle from Kakashi. 

“If it’s any consolation though, you’re the only student I wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning.”

“Have we come to the part where you severely scold me for my transgressions?”

Iruka shook his head, “I’m afraid that time has passed, and while I’m sorely tempted to take you over my knee for a good paddling, I won’t.  One of the unfortunate drawbacks of being a ‘benevolent dictator’ is making sure my subjects are aware of the rules before I take corrective measures.  Speaking of which, are you ready to go over this now?”

Pleased that his unfailing charisma had erased any vestiges of anger or retaliatory actions Iruka might be harboring, a sly grin nominally stretched the fabric of his mask.  “Ah, but I thought you wanted to get to the toy store before it closed; we can’t have your little nose miners deprived of their entertainment can we?”

“Not to worry, the toy store I have in mind keeps late hours.”  Directing Kakashi’s attention to an area near the top of the scroll he said, “I’m sure you noticed the security measure I incorporated into the scroll.  It’s a seal designed to accept only two chakra signatures; yours and mine.  Should anyone else open this, they’ll see nothing more than a blank parchment; that way, both our secrets safe.”

“For a chunnin, you seem to know quite a few high-level jutsu.  Why is that, Iruka?”

"Don’t sound so suspicious.  You know damn well this is a routine security measure used for mission above C-rank.  It’s also an excellent way to keep curious little ninja from getting their hands on testing materials in advance.”

“Seems like overkill for your students, but I guess it is practical.”

Iruka clapped his hands together, “All right, let’s get back to the matter at hand.  I need you to understand that this arrangement addresses a small part of our relationship.  We’re clear on that, right?”

Kakashi acknowledged his understanding without saying a word.

“Good, the most important thing I want you to take away from this is that I value honesty above all else.  I might stretch the truth about surprises I have in store for you, but I won’t intentionally lie about things that are important.  All I ask from you is the same type of respect.  I don’t care how ugly the truth is or how painful it might be to hear, don’t ever lie to me.”

“I can’t promise that.  There will be missions I have to take that require me to do things I can’t tell you about, and-- “

“Kakashi, I’d never ask you to reveal classified information; that wasn’t what I meant.  I’m talking about those times when you have to use sexual favors to gain information or get close enough to a target for assassination.   Those are the things I need to hear directly from you, not pick up from random mission room scuttlebutt.”

“Fair enough, but if you want honesty, I warn you Iruka, I can be a real prick at times, brutally honest and all that.  I won’t sugarcoat my opinions just to spare your feelings.  If you can deal with that, then we shouldn’t have a problem.”

"Deal," he said with a smile.  “Moving on, my home is a place of refuge for me after a long day, and I’d like it to be a sanctuary for you as well.  You’ll always welcome to stay here.  But I’d particularly like it if you came here after missions.  I’ll help you unwind, patch up your minor injuries, and show you how glad I am to have you back home safely.”

“I’d like that, especially the part where you sex me up; that is what you meant, right?”

Iruka dropped his head with a sigh, “Yes, Kakashi, that’s part of what I meant.”  _Merciful Kami, the man has a one-track mind._  

Both men nodded, and Iruka chuckled, “Believe it or not, we just covered the first item on the list, and nobody got hurt.  If we’re in agreement, I just need your chakra infused thumbprint on the scroll, and we can move on to the …”

Kakashi’s eyebrow wagged suggestively, “The kinky parts?”

“Yes,” he sighed, “the kinky parts.”

Gulping down his lukewarm tea, Iruka’s words skated past him, for he’d stopped actively listening.  Very soon, Iruka would describe, hopefully in excruciatingly graphic detail, his thoughts and plans for the ‘interesting’ part of their relationship.  Goosebumps had the audaciousness to break out along his arms, and his stomach tensed in anticipation.  It was as if he’d won backstage tickets to a live audio recording from one of the Icha Icha novels, only a thousand times better. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Iruka continued, “I’m flexible about some things, but those items marked with an asterisk are not subject to further discussion or modification.  Did you have any more questions before we dive into this?”

Of course, he had questions.  _How did I get myself into this predicament?_   _Why didn’t I leave when I had the chance?  I’m about to affix my chakra signature to a piece of paper that literally puts my ass on the line…how did that happen?  Why is he looking at me like that?_

“Kakashi…are you okay?”

Folding his hands on the table, Kakashi closed his eye and breathed out, “If what you said about bringing desires and motives to light is true, then no, I’m not okay.  Don’t get me wrong Iruka; I’ve never had a problem pursuing new methods of sexual gratification.  However, I’m starting to question the bounds of my reputed perversity and sanity.  I never got off on pain before, and to suddenly realize it works for me on some level… that kinda freaks me out.”

Iruka laid his hand on Kakashi’s forearm, “It’s not about pain, it’s about control.  When I spanked you before, you relinquished control, which is something you’d never do in your everyday life.  You’re not crazy, you just discovered another kink you didn’t realize you had, that’s all.”

“Maa…that’s the part that bothers me, although not as much as how you might exploit these new revelations…”

“Why don’t we call it ‘exploring new avenues of pleasure’?”

Kakashi leaned forward whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Iruka--I’m listening…”

 

_TBC…_

_NOTES:_

O-yoroi refers to Samurai warrior armor.  Information derived from <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/-yoroi>.


	7. Tea and Empathy

 

 Life daily presents us with choices  
 Our choices become habits whether for good or to our detriment  
  Habits become a lifestyle

* * *

 

Last time:

Iruka laid his hand on Kakashi’s forearm, “It’s not about pain, it’s about control.  When I spanked you before, you relinquished control, which is something you’d never do in your everyday life.  You’re not crazy, you just discovered another kink you didn’t realize you had, that’s all.”

“Maa…that’s the part that bothers me, although not as much as how you might exploit these new revelations…”

“Why don’t we call it ‘exploring new avenues of pleasure’?”

Kakashi leaned forward whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Iruka--I’m listening…”

He could feel Kakashi's chakra patterns roiling despite the bored look he feigned.  "You've got that faraway look in your eye again," he said.  There was a mischievous glint in Iruka's eyes as well and a rather artful simper playing across his lips. "Hmm . . .  I’m not sure whether to be insulted because you’re not paying attention, or somehow gratified because you were paying attention.”

“You should be extremely flattered Iruka. Thanks to you and your little scroll, I’ll never be able to think of 'play time' in the same way again.”

It felt good to share a laugh this man, but too many years to count, spent on the fields of battle home and abroad had taught Kakashi one universal truth – every opponent, no matter how skilled had at least one indefensible area of weakness; no matter how experienced or physically imposing, once that weak spot was discovered and decisively struck, it could bring the enemy to his knees more efficiently than a kunai to the gut. The keys to unlocking that area were time, observation and mental flexibility. When facing an enemy, using a clone was the best way to engage them from afar giving him the chance to analyze the fighting style, chakra affinity and which side of the body was used predominately in forward attacks. Eight times out of ten, this was the type of strategy that saved his ass, but there was always an opponent or two that defied the odds and gave him a run for his money.

Win, lose or draw those were the opponents that earned his respect. A soldier from the time he could hold a kunai correctly, kill or be killed was a deeply ingrained mindset. And even when other people assumed he was oblivious to his surroundings, Kakashi was always calculating the quickest and best ways to turn any situation to his advantage.

Analyzing people or things, determining their worth by this standard was a hobby at first, something he came up with when polite conversation and mind numbing staff meetings bored him. This pleasant diversion became a part of him, a habit. Needless to say, it made interactions with fellow shinobi and civilians tricky. The outcome was far less bloody, but the principle of pinpointing weaknesses in others remained the same. The intelligence he gathered in these instances would be used to extract favors in the future, or to amuse himself in the moment.  

Then along came Umino Iruka, school teacher and part time mission room worker.

Iruka was the exact opposite of any ninja he’d ever known. The man wore his emotions like a neon yellow overcoat, yet these weaknesses were his strengths.   Children loved him because he was strict, but fair; he spoke his mind respectfully and without fear, which in turn earned the respect of his superiors. And somehow, Iruka became a fixture in his daily thoughts, awakening the desire to protect and or secret him away from all who might become a rival for his affections and attention.

He’d been unsuccessful in finding out what made him tick . . . until now.  A few angry exchanges, threats of physical violence and even non-lethal brute force hadn’t been enough to make Iruka back down, but the right combination of words, spoken with a measure of supposed humility was all it took to lower the other man’s defenses. Iruka’s response to what he thought was vulnerability on Kakashi’s part prompted a reassuring squeeze of his forearm, a kindly, knowing smile that reached his dark brown eyes and the pursing of his lips in empathy with Kakashi’s ‘confession.’

Yep, Umino Iruka was a sucker for a sob story.

Having never been the type to waste time on anything or anyone that didn’t challenge him physically or mentally, Kakashi would be bored to tears quickly and cast aside that thing or person without a second thought. That was his area of weakness, a knee-jerk response that was as natural and automatic as breathing.   He couldn’t, wouldn’t change that about himself because it’s what kept him in the land of the living thus far. But there was something about Iruka, something so wild and free beneath the surface of his punctilious nature that made Kakashi feel things he couldn’t explain or understand.

 _He reminds me of someone I knew in times past_ , Kakashi thought. S _omeone who reached into my soul and never let go. Someone who--_

“Here,” Iruka said when he snagged the scroll with one finger to drag it over to his side of the table. “Let me have a look at this thing again.”

If this relationship between him and Iruka were to have any chance of succeeding, it would have to be on Kakashi’s terms. Envisioning the possibilities Iruka’s eventual submission would bring, Kakashi leaned back in his chair, a sly smile on his face, the tips of his fingers lightly drumming against the table’s edge.

“Of course,” he said.

For a split second, he felt like the writer and director of an elaborate stage play, having assembled all the components necessary for Iruka’s anagnorisis, he would patiently wait for realization to dawn on the hapless chunnin.  But as Iruka carefully went over the scroll before him, checking and rechecking each item like some sort of stern, swarthy Santa Clause, his full lips, mouthing a few words from time to time, those whispered promises of punishment and reward spread themselves before Kakashi like a smorgasbord of carnality; he was practically salivating like a starving man awaiting permission to gorge himself without restraint. The aura of intense concentration swirling around Iruka was also compelling and appealing; gauging how far the ruddy stain would creep past the scar across his nose whenever he stumbled over a scandalously worded section of text was an inexplicably erotic show, but more importantly, through it all, Kakashi saw the perfect way out of his current predicament.

Being this close to Iruka, watching the saccade of his brown eyes as they scoured the scroll also agitated the subconscious need to ready his defenses; it was same intense feeling he had whenever faced an  unknown foe.  Kakashi’s right hand slowly drifted away from the tabletop to run along his thigh, where it hovered above his shuriken pouch. The thought of forged steel between his fingertips and the twisted euphoria that came with the thought of drawing of first blood caused a transient spike in his breathing even as the words of an old shinobi axiom repeated its familiar refrain between his ears:

_Beware the opponent whose weaknesses the eyes perceive, for therein lies strength the mind cannot believe._

It was a truth drilled into his head by his father, one of many; practical advice that served him well in battle, but seated here at Iruka’s kitchen table, it made no sense whatsoever. A shake of the head and a deep cleansing breath forced a mental step back, giving him a chance to reign in his confused thoughts. He knew of course that Iruka wasn’t his enemy, but that knowledge didn’t negate the threats to his physical being represented by the chunnin and his ornate little scroll.

 _I underestimated him once_ , he thought, _and paid the price for that miscalculation_. _I guess this thing is gonna boil down to logic versus emotion, so that means I--”_

“All right, Iruka said suddenly when he slid the scroll in front of Kakashi again. “As I said earlier, I’m flexible about some things, but those items marked with an asterisk are non-negotiable, meaning they’re not subject to further discussion or modification. However, I am willing to give you a little wiggle room on those items without an asterisk.”

Kakashi’s eye slowly followed a direct path from Iruka’s smiling face along his outstretched arm and then to the parchment dotted with asterisks.

“Umm—pardon me for bringing this up,” Kakashi helpfully pointed out, “but there aren’t many items on this list without asterisks. Not as flexible as you claim Iruka.”

A brown eyebrow lifted slightly, and a smirk revealed a deep dimple in his left cheek. “Therein lays the challenge, wouldn’t you say Kakashi?  Now, I’m thinking this might go faster, if we start with something simple, like this one for example…”

As Iruka read aloud one of his rules and the punishment that would be doled out should Kakashi fail to accomplish his assigned task, he thought, _such a fascinating contradiction you are Iruka; the words coming out of your mouth are so perverse, yet you manage to hold yourself with an air of technical impassiveness. Remarkable --however, your autonomic responses are relaying an entirely different tale._

Right on cue, another warm blush fanned out over Iruka’s cheek, prompting a throaty chuckle from Kakashi.   “No offense Iruka, but this scroll thing reads like a regular mission assignment. You can’t expect me to take this seriously, can you?”

Iruka dipped his chin and with a sideways glance, he smiled and said, “This was my first time doing something like this, so I drew on what I knew. But, if you insist in viewing this as a mission, let’s –“

“I insist, however,” Kakashi said as he pushed the scroll away from him. “Despite your best efforts, the mission’s objective is incomplete.” Beginning with his index finger, Kakashi ticked off his observations.   “You've given me a vague idea of who my client is and what he wants. You even made me aware of when and where to perform the tasks the client desires, yet you failed to provide the ‘why.’ That’s unacceptable Iruka.”

He gave the puzzled man a few moments to let the profundity of that truth sink in.

“I’d certainly hate to fail a mission due to some,” his eye drifted over Iruka slowly “desk clerk’s oversight.” _That got him--now to reel in him in._ “Due to the appalling lack of information, I have valid grounds to decline this mission.” _That blush of his is almost crimson; this ought to push him right over the edge._ “Oh _,_ and one more thing; unless I overlooked it, this ‘mission’ isn’t ranked, so how can you be sure you’ve selected the best candidate for the job?”

Iruka slyly smiled and said, “Of all the shinobi in this village, trust me Hatake-san, you’re the best suited and most deserving. But since you’re determined to make this a mission, I’ll play along—for now."

Straightening in his seat, his head held high and an official demeanor firmly in place, he said, “According to regulations, and I quote: ‘All missions above ‘B-rank’ are not to be marked on the scroll itself. Given the sensitive nature of the assignment contained therein, duly authorized central dispatch personnel are required to provide an encoded oral recitation of pertinent background information to the jounin who accepts the mission. Upon receipt of the mission, said shinobi will sign off on the scroll in ink and with a chakra enhanced thumbprint,’ end quote. Do you have any impediments, either physical or mental, which would preclude you from accepting this mission shinobi-san?”

“No, Umino-san.”

“The regulation as read, was it understandable to you Hatake-san?”

 _I’ve known this regulation since I was a genin._ “Yes, Umino-san, I understand.”

Iruka reached for the scroll and after a few minutes scrutiny, he snatched a red pen from his shuriken pouch adding these notes, _Need to address superiority complex and the tendency to flee_. Pushing the parchment before Kakashi again, he sighed, “Your client, that would be me, has a lengthy background, so I’ll just give you the condensed version --”

“On the contrary Umino-san,” propping his elbow on the table, an upturned palm made the ideal resting place for Kakashi’s chin. “I’m a huge fan of long stories, especially the ones that make duly authorized personnel blush like you’re doing right now.”

“You’re stalling,” he snarked, “guess that’s something else we’ll need to work on. Pay attention then, you might be surprised to learn how much we have in common.”

Shrugging off his flak jacket Iruka began, “Orphaned after the Nine-Tails attack, I was one of the more fortunate children. The Morino family took me in and spared me the indignity of living in an overcrowded state ward home.  They gave me sustenance and shelter, for which I was and continue to be grateful for; but the one thing I desperately needed, they were ill-equipped to provide.”

“What was that pray tell?”

“I needed acknowledgement Kakashi—not as an object of pity, or a collateral damage statistic, but as an individual.”

Kakashi nodded his head in embittered understanding; after his father’s fall from grace, he too craved recognition in his own right, as a shinobi and as an identity separate from his father’s shame. Shutting himself away from the soulless eyes of those who offered pity, their meaningless words of sympathy like dust in his mouth, he turned to the written word for comfort. Books filled with regulations, rules and training manuals; immutable logic, not variable emotions were his imaginary playmates in that lonely world of preadolescence.

Iruka’s voice took on a brittle tone when he continued, “Back then, I was rather hempy and I started pulling pranks to get attention. If I do say so myself, I was damn good at it. Nine times out of ten, I got away with my little capers because I knew how to respond in an acceptable way when or if I got caught. A chastened expression and the specious promise of better behavior were the secrets to my success.” The bright smile dimmed a bit when he said, “I got sloppy one day and Morino Ibiki caught me just as I was about to set off some smoke bombs in the jounin barracks.”

Rising to clear the table was Iruka’s effectual and polite way to turn his back on Kakashi; preparing another pot of tea gave his nervous hands something to fiddle with. “There would be no meaningless lectures, no ear pulling, not even a slap upside my head. Ibiki simply hauled me over his knee, and thoroughly roasted my bottom.”

Kakashi smiled deviously thinking, _you deserved it, you little stinker._

Iruka gave a hollow chuckle. “No one had ever done that before. I distinctly remember how embarrassed and humiliated I felt. It made me angry too because he caught me off-guard and unable to defend myself.”

As a few tealeaves swirled around in the boiling water, Iruka off-handedly remarked, “Correct me if I’m wrong Kakashi, but I imagine you felt the same way when I spanked you.” Without bothering to turn away from his busy work, Iruka could feel Kakashi’s broad shoulders stiffen.

“Anyway, I tried to hide from Ibiki for an entire week afterwards, but considering that we shared the same tiny living space, it wasn’t practical.”

“Yeah,” Kakashi awkwardly laughed, “that was rather juvenile.” _It would be lot funnier if I hadn’t done something similar. Wait a minute…he mentioned the Morino family. The only family with that surname spawned – nah, I must have heard him wrong._

“Iruka, hang on a minute. Are you telling me that Ibiki Morino, the head of our Torture and Interrogation Unit was the one responsible for training you as a sadist?”

“I’m no sadist, silly. But Ibiki was responsible for my association of spanking with an expression of concern for another person. He disciplined me because he felt I was wasting my time and talent; as far as he was concerned, the best way to address the motives underneath my behavior, was to blister my behind.”

“I completely understand how that can alter one’s outlook on life.   And with Ibiki as your mentor, now I understand a few other things as well.” Kakashi slumped forward, his forearms flat against the table, his fingers intertwined. “I wracked my brain for three days wondering where I’d seen that chakra block and immobilization seal used before. That’s one of Ibiki’s favorite moves to get information from an enemy or during a psych evaluation –“

“He wasn’t a mentor, but he did teach me that jutsu. Look, we’re veering off course here Kakashi--”

“A slight deviation, I assure you, but you‘ve aroused my curiosity.” Kakashi’s tone and demeanor suddenly turned nasty.  “Tell me Iruka, what else did you learn from Ibiki?”

Iruka rolled his eyes and huffed, “Nothing classified, if that’s what you mean. I just picked up some basic principles of kinesics from him, as a way to determine what a person is thinking before they act. It’s a beneficial skill that has applications on the battlefield, in the mission room and in the classroom. I’m not as talented as he is, but I manage.”

“I see.”  _No wonder it seemed as if he could read my thoughts._ “Thanks for indulging my inquisitiveness; please go on with your tale of ‘Iruka the miscreant’.   Did Ibiki ever spank you after that time?”

“Well, that’s a bit harder to answer with a simple yes or no.  No, as I was growing up in their household he never spanked me for misbehaving after that.” Returning to the table with two mugs, Iruka snickered, “The episode with Ibiki couldn’t have happened at a worse time for me though; I was right on the cusp of puberty when my thoughts centered on getting attention, getting laid, and breathing. The fire he ignited in my bottom lingered for days afterward, provoking the same two reactions: a warm tingly sensation in my stomach, and an uncomfortable tent in my pants. I was pleasantly disconcerted at the time and I seriously started to think something was wrong with me.”

Kakashi sipped at his tea thinking, _Yep, I understand that one too._

“Believe me Kakashi, there was nothing remotely sexual about my first spanking; as I recall, Ibiki didn’t even bare my bottom. He didn’t need to; you’ve seen those ham shanks that pass for his hands haven’t you?”

“Hard to miss ‘em,” he said.

“So you can imagine how much it hurt. I remember hating him for what he did to me. Still, finding myself unceremoniously draped over a firm lap, struggling to get away from the heavy hand warming my bottom comforted me somehow. I was too ashamed to discuss this with anyone else, and too curious to keep it to myself, so I confronted him. Turns out, that was the best decision of my young life. Ibiki was the closest thing I knew of to a walking encyclopedia of human psychology, even back then. When he assured me I wasn’t crazy, I believed him.”

Silence appropriate and comfortable lingered between them.

“Ibiki was wrong about one thing however,” Iruka finally said. “He chalked up my feelings to the tidal wave of hormones crashing against my brain; ‘a phase’ he said, that would pass with maturity.”

“Obviously it didn’t.” Kakashi nervously cleared his throat, “So, is this,” he pointed to the scroll, “something you do in all your relationships?”

“No, you have the distinction of being the first one. Over the years, I’ve been involved in situations that allowed me to indulge my fascination, both as a spankee and a spanker. I truly enjoyed the former, but I’ve come to prefer the latter, probably because I understand how liberating and empowering the experience is. What can I say, I’m a giver.”

 _Hmm…_ _Kakashi thought,_ _if I play this just right, it won’t be long before you’re in your proper place, and liking it._

Iruka stopped fiddling with his tea cup to say, “It’s taken me almost eleven years to finally realize that I need a relationship with someone who understands and appreciates this particular desire of mine; someone with whom I can share my life, not just a one night adventure. So, with you, I decided to make my intentions clear from the start.”

“You’re speculating that I understand this -- peculiarity of yours.”

“And you’re stalling -- again.”

“Curiosity -- stalling, I see how you might confuse the two."

Placing his mug in the middle of a seam in the table, Iruka took a deep breath before continuing. “As to the ‘yes’ part of your question, once I reached that point in life where I could live on my own, Ibiki did spank me on occasion, but for an entirely different reason.” Wrapping his hands around the still steaming mug of tea, he offered, “As you’ve probably noticed, I have a ‘thing’ about keeping my surroundings neat and orderly. I’ve been this way all my life , but when I became a shinobi, this ‘thing’ evolved into a way of having or exercising a semblance of control – you know how it is, as a cat’s paw for the village, we don’t have much say over when and where we go and what we’re expected to do.”

How well did Kakashi know that.

“At any rate, when my desire for order became excessive due to the stresses of shinobi life, I realized that it had the potential of becoming a serious problem, one that might interfere with my duties in the field, so I went to talk with Ibiki. I trusted him to help me find a way to deal with this situation before it got too far out of hand.  He’d been aware of my 'problem' since I was a young kid, but never said anything because he hoped shinobi life would beat it out of me – it didn’t, it just made the problem more pronounced. By acknowledging the situation and talking about it, it helped somewhat, but it still didn’t eradicate the problem. This behavior was something I did unconsciously, so his solution was the same as it had been with the jounin barracks situation. Whenever I felt like I was losing control over this part of my life, Ibiki thought if I could associate it with something painful, it might break the cycle of my compulsion.”

A sip of tea quenched his suddenly dry throat.  “Mind you, I wouldn’t recommend that form of ‘treatment’ for everyone with obsessive compulsive tendencies; it’s archaic and humiliating, but for me, it worked. So, whenever I felt myself going overboard I would go to him, talk it over and then submit myself to a round of ‘treatment’ across his knee. Trust me, after a few intense sessions with him and a hairbrush, the incidences of my excessiveness became fewer and farther in between.”

Folding his hands in his lap and bowing his head, Kakashi was lost in his own world; images of the smooth, firm and rounded flesh of Iruka’s bottom being warmed to a pink, and then a violent red as he struggled to free himself from Ibiki’s firm grasp and the unerring hard strikes of the hairbrush were making him squirm in his seat. He longed to stroke himself as that image kept replaying in his mind’s eye. Knowing Iruka would disapprove of such a thing made it harder to resist the urge.

“My sessions with Ibiki decreased in their frequency from once a month to once every three months and I was really proud of my progress – until I asked for a transfer to the Academy as a teaching assistant. I figured being around the messes that pre-genin make would help me channel that part of my personality into a more constructive outlet.”

Shaking his head sadly he admitted, “I did and I do enjoy working with Konoha’s future shinobi, but as you might imagine, the pay for an instructors isn’t that much. I was able to supplement my income by working in the mission’s room from time to time. But between the Academy and the mission desk, I was surrounded by clutter which fed into my ‘thing’ and I was worse off than I’d been before. On the plus side, I was able to straighten out the filing system in the mission room and streamline the way reports are prioritized, but I was miserable and back to Ibiki I ran.” 

Now, all Kakashi could see was Iruka standing with his nose pressed in the corner of a room, his pants and undershorts pooled around his ankles, his bottom, red as a ripe tomato and tender to the touch.

“I would seek him out for proactive treatment,”’ Iruka went on to say, “whenever the stress pushed me toward a debilitating point.  I'm happy to report that It’s been a few years now since my last session with Ibiki.  So there, now you have the full story on your 'client' and his peculiarities."  Slumping against the chair's back with a sigh, he fully expected and prepared himself to be teased only to realize the other man had quite rudely zoned out.

"Kakashi, are you listening to me?”

“Clutter,” Kakashi mumbled. “Mission room, treatment, hairbrush, corner time . . .”

“What?”

Shaking his head, as if to clear his mind, Kakashi looked up into those angry brown eyes and said, “What I meant was, how did his being your, umm, I don’t know, psychoanalyst, affect your relationship with him?”

“Well, maybe he saw it as a public service,” he said with a laugh, “but our relationship is much the same as it’s always been.”

“So, no umm, sexual –”

“Don’t be ridiculous Kakashi! Ibiki’s straighter than a ruler, and he’s like an older brother to me. But I see in you some of the same traits I saw in myself back then and I --”

“Wait a minute! Do you seriously believe you’d be doing the village a service if you straightened me out? What am I, some sort of project to you?”

“Of course not, Kakashi, as I've said before, it would be my pleasure to smooth away some of your rough edges.”

“What makes you think I need to be ‘fixed’ or smoothed out? Maybe I like the way I am and I --”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have come back after the first time I paddled you.”

“I just wanted to return your sleep pants and give you a piece of my mind while I was at it, that’s all.”

"If you say so Kakashi. Listen, I’ve come a long way since then and my compulsion for orderliness has been largely confined to my desk in the mission room and the inside of my home --”

“So that’s why most of the things with asterisks have to do with housekeeping duties, am I right?”

“I have to live here Kakashi and I don’t want to feel uncomfortable in my own house, so yeah, I do have some guidelines that revolve around --”

 _"_ You want me to be your maid, is that it?” Provoking Iruka was child’s play. _I w_ _o_ _nder how long it will take before he explodes._ "Would you have me traipse around here in some frilly little costume, keeping your house neat and tidy, and if I should fail to dust the lintels sufficiently, would it give you a reason, or should I say, the right to take me over your knee pull down my ruffled undergarments and spank me?” 

“Oh good grief Kakashi, that Icha Icha stuff is rotting your brain. If I wanted to go the frilly clothes route, I would have my choice of willing submissive women to pick from and I would have done that ages ago.” Iruka threw his arm over the back the chair and let his eyes wander over Kakashi’s frame from head to toe. “Although, using frilly clothing as a means to discipline you probably wouldn’t be effective; you might enjoy it far too much.”

“Hn, that’s doubtful.”

“Well, now that you’ve been briefed on the mission’s parameters, let’s see if we can wrap this up before midnight, shall we?”

Pushing the scroll closer to Iruka with a smile, Kakashi said, “I have one more question before we ‘wrap things up.’ Tell me; are you a betting man Iruka?”

 TBC . . .

 NOTES:

Simper: to smile in a silly, self-conscious way.

Hempy: mischievous; often in trouble for mischief.

Anagnorisis: a critical moment of recognition or discovery by the protagonist of the identity of his own character or the nature of his own predicament which leads to the resolution of the plot.

Cat’s paw: a person used to serve the purposes of another; tool.

Kinesics: the study of body movements, gestures, facial expressions and the like, as a means of communication.


End file.
